


Voltron: When Stars Align

by Rollercoasterwords



Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, M/M, My First AO3 Post, My First Fanfic, My First Work in This Fandom, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 19:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 30,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7545457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rollercoasterwords/pseuds/Rollercoasterwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Shiro fic for all your voltron trash needs. Please read my Garbage Story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Where the moon river flows, the stars will sing..." your mother hums as she cradles your fractured wrist.

You sniffle, trying to be stronger. As the daughter of a healer, you've seen injuries much worse than this. But you're only seven. This is the worst pain you've ever been in, in your short life. You can already feel the bones mending, but the shock of it all--the sudden fall, the snap, the sharp burst of pain--stays. You are learning for the first time what it is to heal.

"Shhh," your mother murmurs, "Shh, sweet girl. You'll be okay."

You wake up from the dream abruptly. It's been such a long time since you've had a good dream, and not a nightmare. But you don't need to be asleep to see the fire flashing before your eyes, to hear to explosions, to see your mother's broken hand, reaching for you. You try to hold on to the good memory, but as you open your eyes to the familiar bare cell, it's hard to keep it from slipping through your fingers.

"Star-girl," the grating voice of a Galra guard draws your attention, reminding you of what woke you up. The door to your cell is open, and two guards are holding a barely-conscious gladiator between them. The guard who just spoke grins, baring sharp, yellowing teeth, "You have a patient."

You frown and stand up, murmuring, "I thought...I thought that Myzax was fighting today." The two guards move to lay the patient down on the extra cot in your cell. You're a bit startled to see how...human he looks. The second guard grins in a way that makes your blood run cold and replies, "He was. This is our new Champion." You can't hide your shock, and the guards laugh as they leave the room, smiling at the nearly-unconscious man like he's their new favorite toy. Which, you realize, he is.

As the door to your cell slides shut, you waste no time in assessing the man's injuries. He groans as you gently lift his arm to examine a deep cut. "Shhh," you murmur without thinking, "It's okay. I'm going to help you."

"Where's...Matt..." his voice is weak, and in his injured state he's doing nothing to hide his worry. 

"I'm sorry," you say, quietly, as you place your hands on the wound in his arm, "I don't know anyone named Matt. The guards hardly let me out of my cell."

"Who are you?" he struggles to keep his eyes open, "Are you human?"

"You need to rest." Your voice is gentle, but firm. He doesn't listen, though, trying to pull his arm away and frantically asking, "What are you doing to me?" You don't try to reach for his arm, instead letting your hands drop to your sides. "I'm just going to heal you," you murmur, quietly. This finally makes the man pause, and you hesitantly place your hands on his shoulders, easing him back onto the cot. This time, he doesn't resist, eyelids flickering as his body suffers the effects of his injuries and pushes him towards unconsciousness.

"Rest," you say, again, and this time his eyes stay closed.

***

When the Galra guards return, you're still healing the man's injuries. "I thought you were supposed to be fast," one sneers, and you shudder. You don't know if you'll ever get used to the sound of Galran voices.

"He had fractures throughout his entire arm, several lacerations, burn wounds from Myzax's laser, two broken ribs, and multiple contusions." You respond calmly. One thing you've learned in your time on Zarkon's ship has been to stay quiet, calm, and non-confrontational. In a way, it's similar to how possums play dead to avoid their pray. Something so dull, so passive, is no fun to mess around with.   
The guard grunts.

"How long?"

You hesitate, wondering if you should risk lying or not. You usually do anything you can to avoid angering the Galra, but you can't remember the last time you've had a human near you. "Through the night," you respond, a slight waver in your voice, "He'll be healed by morning." The guard moves closer to you, slowly, and it takes all your self control to keep your hands placed calmly on the new Champion's hand, healing a hairline fracture in his thumb. 

"That's a long time, Star-girl." The voice is so harsh, it's almost painful in your ears, especially with the close proximity of the guard. "Feel free to take him to a Galra medic." You respond, proud of how steady your voice is this time. You almost sound bored. The guard growls and turns away, opening your cell door. "Tomorrow morning," he says, stepping out with his partner and allowing the door to close behind him. You breathe a sigh of relief.

Your evening meal has already been delivered, so the guards really won't be returning to check on you until tomorrow morning. Although the man did have numerous injuries, your abilities are stronger than any of the Galra have yet guessed, and you can use that to your advantage. He should be fully healed in three hours, and could regain consciousness in as little as one. You'll probably have to take a break soon to eat, however, which will push the time back a bit. Still, if all goes well, you'll have at least a few hours to talk to the man, to ask him questions, to see if he knows any more about what's going on than you do. As the bones in his hand grow stronger and mend, you begin to feel dizzy. Once his arm is completely healed, you pull your hands away and go to the tray in the corner of your room.

You spoon the flavorless Galran mush--standard prisoner fare, although they've given you a generous double portion for the new Champion--into your mouth, but your headache only grows worse. You drop your spoon onto your tray and suck in a sharp breath as pain throbs in your temples, squeezing your eyes shut and gritting your teeth. This has happened before, and you know it will pass once you're rested, but you're still not used to the sharp pain. You press your fingers to your temple.

"Are you alright?" The voice startles you. It's deeper, richer, calmer than before. Completely different from the voices of the Galran guards. When you open your eyes, you see the man staring at you from his cot, sitting up slowly and wincing.

"I'm fine," you say, faintly, trying not to agitate the pounding in your skull, "I've just overexerted myself a bit. Give me a moment, please." He falls silent, and you breathe in and out purposefully until the ache subsides. When you open your eyes again, he's still staring at you.

"I'm okay, now." You stand up, carrying the tray over to the cot and pulling up your stool. He watches you cautiously, obviously unsure of what to think.

"You're a human." It's a statement, but you can hear the question behind his words. You shake your head, balancing the tray on your lap, and respond, "I am part human. But my mother was Ellythrian; a star-person." The man blinks, and you can see that he has no idea what you're talking about.

"Ellythrians believe that our people came from stars," you explain, "One night, eons ago, a great meteor flew through the sky and knocked some stars down onto a tiny planet, way out on the edges of the galaxy. The stars were injured in their fall, and called to their sisters for help. But to fall is the worst fate for a star; none of the sisters in the sky would come down. Finally, after years of suffering, broken, on an unfamiliar planet, a new star heard the calls and sacrificed her life in the sky to go down to Ellythria--that's the planet they fell on--and heal her sisters. The stars became mortal as their connection to the sky waned, and their children were mortal, and their children's children. But the ancestors of the healer star, who had sacrificed herself, continued to have the ability to heal." Telling the old legend has a soothing effect on you, and when you look up you see that it seems to be soothing the man, too. He no longer looks so agitated, and is listening intently. There is, however, a skeptical look in his features that he can't quite hide.

"Of course," you look down at your mush, trying to hide your embarrassment, "It's impossible to knock stars out of the sky with meteors. And there's no proof that stars are sentient, or ever have been. Yet, we know the legend must hold some truth, because there are people among us who have the power to heal any physical ailment of any living person, excepting themselves."

"So...when you said you were healing me," the man coaxes, and you reach out to place your hands on a small cut on the back of his hand. He watches in disbelief as it closes, new skin growing rapidly, until there's nothing left.

"Small injuries like this, they're the easiest," you explain, "But bigger injuries take a lot of energy. It's possible to overexert yourself. And we can't always make a body like new; sometimes there are scars left that we can't do anything about." You run your fingers gently over the scar tissue on his arm where the deep cut was that you first healed when you saw him. He gazes down at it, and you pull your hands away.

"Now, it's your turn," you say fervently, "I told the guards it would take me until morning to heal you, so we have until then--of course, you still have some injuries, so try not to move too much, I'll get to those--but tell me, where did you come from? How did you get here? Are there others like you?"

"My name is Takashi Shirogane," he says, still marveling at the new scar on his arm, "I...I was the pilot of a mission from Earth to Kerberos. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but I think we were abducted by...by..."

"Galrans," you nod, "Their leader is Zarkon. He's been ravaging the entire galaxy." 

"Right," he looks like he wants to ask more questions, but keeps his focus, "See, on Earth, we didn't know aliens existed. They probably still don't know...um, anyway, I was with a man named Doctor Holt and his son, Matt, when we were taken. They said they were sending the doctor to a work camp, but Matt and I were going to be sent to fight some...beast. They called it Myzax. They were going to make Matt fight first, but--I couldn't....I couldn't watch...I grabbed the blade and injured him so that they'd send him to the work camp, as well, and I fought, instead."

You stare at him, shocked. You hardly leave your prison, but you've seen Myzax once before, when you were called to heal him. It was one of the most grotesque and frightening experiences of your life. You can't believe that anyone would be brave enough to sacrifice himself to that creature to save his friend...nor strong enough to win. An unfamiliar feeling stirs inside you, something warm and...hopeful. 

"You said you were part human." Takashi Shirogane's voice interrupts your thoughts, "What did you mean by that, if you're from another planet?"

"Right," you murmur, "Um, well, we didn't know of the existence of humans on Ellythria until about a decade before I was born. A ship crashed on the outskirts of our planet--at first people thought more stars had fallen from the sky, because they looked so similar to us. But minuscule differences were revealed, and we soon realized that they were not Ellythrian--they called themselves 'humans'. We had been aware of a few other alien species, but never one so close to ours. Many claimed that the old legends were true, and stars had fallen onto another planet, somewhere far away in the galaxy. The humans had no memory of how they had arrived there, nor where they had come from. Nothing we did helped; the only clues to their origins were from strange memories of their homes, like certain foods or customs. We adopted the humans into our people, and some even intermarried. My father and mother were one of those couples--my father is human. However, as far as anyone could tell, his blood had no effect on the healer blood I inherited from my mother; if anything, it seemed that my abilities might be stronger, or at least different from her's in some way. We didn't have time to find out, though, before the Galrans arrived and conquered Ellythria."

"How old were you when you were taken prisoner?" Takashi asks.

"Seventeen."

"And how old are you now?"

"Nineteen."

He stares at you, horrified and pitying, "Two years? You've been captive here for two years?" You nod.   
"Why do they keep you here?" He asks, "Don't they have other ways of healing people?" You chuckle humorlessly, nodding again, "Oh, certainly. But their medics and druids and technology are still far slower and more flawed than what I can do. I'm valuable." The word is bitter, in your mouth. You've heard it one too many times aboard this ship. 

"There's got to be a way to escape--" He begins to stand, but cries out. His hand flies to his rib. Instinctively, you push him back onto the cot, then press your hands gently to his ribcage. "I'm so sorry," you say, chewing on your lip as you find the break, "I almost forgot that you needed more healing. Have you been in pain this whole time?"

"I'm fine," he says, clenching his fists until his knuckles turn white as your hands brush over the broken bone. 

"I need to finish healing you, Takashi Shirogane," You begin to concentrate, letting energy flow from you and into the wound, "Escape is every prisoner's dream, but the most important thing to worry about right now is just surviving."

"I'll take your word for that," he says, gritting his teeth, "But I'm not going to give up."

You try not to smile. Hope only causes pain, in places like this. But something in his voice makes you want to believe him.

"And it's Shiro," he adds, "You can call me Shiro." This time, you don't try to stop yourself from smiling.


	2. Chapter 2

Only two days pass before you see Shiro again. This time, you're awake when the guards appear at your door and throw him down onto the cot. Your heart skips a beat when you see him--blood is pouring down his face, with no sign of stopping. You can tell he's already lost a lot.

"Be quick about it, star-girl," one of the guards says, smiling grotesquely, "Zarkon has big plans for this one." You try not to dwell on his words as the guards leave.

Shiro reaches up to wipe blood of his face and starts to speak, but you shush him. "Don't talk right now, I need to concentrate."

As you examine and begin healing the wound, you have to fight to keep a straight face. There's a deep gash across the front of his head, and as you begin to staunch the blood flow you can see a sliver of bone where the skin is cut open over the bridge of his nose. You swallow and close your eyes--even though you were born a healer, you weren't born with an iron stomach.

You know the guards will probably return fairly soon--you have an hour or two, at most--so once the wound begins to close you ask, "What happened?"

"Another Galran gladiator," he says, relief in his voice as the pain from the gash begins to ebb.

"It must have been Hyzzyx," you mumble, frowning. You know what this means, and it isn't good.

"Hyzzyx?" He asks, wincing as you move your fingers to the opposite side of his face, and you nod. "Their second best."

"Second best? What does that mean?"

Your frown deepens and you try not to look too worried as you respond, "Galrans--and Zarkon especially-- love gladiator fights. It's the only sort of entertainment they have, really, besides blowing up planets and slaughtering innocents. For the entire time I've been here, they've had their three best gladiators: Myzax, Hyzzyx, and Rydak. The rules of the game are fairly simple. If someone is able to defeat all three, that person becomes the new Champion." Shiro's frown mirrors yours as you speak.

"I already defeated Myzax, though." He says; it's a question more than a statement.

"Myzax was their old Champion. The day they sent you to fight him, they weren't expecting a real fight. Often, they'll send prisoners to be slaughtered by Myzax just because they enjoy watching it. Since you've beaten him, it's assumed that you'll beat Hyzzyx and Rydak, which is why the guards are already calling you Champion. But they're still putting you through the motions of a traditional gladiator challenge, only in reverse."

"And what happens when I'm the champion?" Shiro asks. His voice is surprisingly calm, and you try to mirror his demeanor. But your voice cracks as you answer, "You fight." You don't elaborate, but he seems to understand. You fight--that's all gladiators do. You fight and fight and fight and you don't stop until you're dead. You have to suppress a shudder as you remember the guard's words: Zarkon has big plans for this one...

When the wound finally closes under your hands, there's still a large scar stretched across Shiro's face, jagged at the edges. As he reaches up to touch it, you can't help but think to yourself that it's only the first of many.

You move to the sink in the corner and begin to wash the blood off your hands. The water is running red down the drain when Shiro says, "You never told me your name."

Without turning around, you answer, "I'm called Lyda here. I had another name, before, but Galran prisoners are reidentified once they're taken. Really, I'm lucky I was even given a name. Most prisoners are just numbers."

Shiro doesn't ask what your name used to be, and you don't offer it. Dwelling on the past hasn't done you any good. Here, you're Lyda. You're a machine. You don't need a mother or a father or a home.

As you turn around, you offer a tentative smile, saying, "Soon your name will be Champion, I guess."

Shiro runs his fingers over the new scar on his face, and his voice is hard as he says, "No. No matter what happens, I'll be Shiro."

You want to tell him that it's silly to think that. You want to say that being soft in a hard place is more painful than he thinks. That you can't be human on a Galra ship. That it's easier to let go than hold on, to accept your new name, your new identity, and let it protect you. But something in his expression stops you.

Instead, you tell him, "I believe you," and are surprised to find that the words feel true.


	3. Chapter 3

The next time you see Shiro, his injuries aren't nearly as bad as before. A hairline fracture, a cut, a bruise. Part of you is relieved that he hasn't been hurt so badly, but another part of you wishes you had an excuse to spend more time with him. It's been years since you've had human company; it reminds you of Ellythria.

As you begin healing, you ask quietly, "Rydak?" Shiro nods, and you're not really sure how to feel. On one hand, the fact that he could beat all three Galran gladiators means he gets to stay alive. But you wonder if a life as Zarkon's plaything will really be much better than death. Gladiators live to fight. The Galrans will want to turn Shiro into a weapon, a killing machine. You don't know what lengths they'll go to to accomplish that.

However, there's also a part of you clinging to the hope that this means you'll get to see Shiro more often. If he's the Champion, he'll be fighting fairly frequently, meaning he'll be injured fairly frequently. If they want him to fight as much as possible, the Galrans will want to heal Shiro as quickly as possible, meaning they'll send him to you. You hate yourself for thinking in such a selfish way, but you can't stop the idea from dancing in your head. It's been two years since you've had anything even faintly resembling a friend. It's been two years since you've even had a real conversation.

"I guess you're the Champion, then." You say, healing the hairline fracture on his left forearm, "Well. Officially, at least."

"Please, don't call me that." He frowns, "I don't want anything to do with these...monsters."

"At least you're alive," you respond, "That's what matters most." He falls silent for a moment, then looks up at you.

"Is it?"

You blink, unsure of how to respond since he basically just put your own doubts into words. You move your hands to a cut on his arm as you consider the question. After a beat, you say, "Maybe it's selfish, but I've been alone on this ship for two years. You're the first kind person--the first human--that I've spoken to in that time. I don't know how much longer I would have been able to bear healing Galran soldiers and gladiators and druids. I don't know how much longer I would have been able to bear the monsters. So, for me, right now, the most important thing is that you're alive." You stare at the cut you're healing on his arm as you speak, embarrassed at how fervent your voice sounds. You're trying not to be too intense--it's not like you're in love with the guy--but being held prisoner, surrounded by vicious, violent aliens for two years, has taken its toll. You really don't know how much longer you would have lasted if you hadn't been given this one small thing to cling to--another person.

Shiro places his hand on top of yours, and you realize your fingers are shaking on his arm. The cut is completely healed.

"I'm sorry." He says, and the sincerity in his voice makes you want to cry.

You jump as the door to your cell swings open, and pull your hands away from Shiro's, turning to face the intruders. Two Galran guards--you can never tell if it's the same ones every time or not--enter, heading for the cot.

"He's healed?" One asks, voice gruff. You nod mutely, and the guard grins. "Good. We have orders to take you to Haggar, Champion." This time he's addressing Shiro, but your blood runs cold at the name of the witch. You stand without thinking, crying out, "No!" Shiro turns to look at you, startled, along with the Galran guards. They seem amused by your outburst.

"What's wrong, star-girl?" The same guard who spoke before asks, "I thought you liked Haggar. The two of you had such fun together." His voice is like something rotten.

You stand, frozen, trying not to think about the time you spent with the witch. Back when your mother was still alive...Shiro gazes up at you, concerned and confused, and you turn to look at him. "What does she want with him?" You try to demand, but your words sound broken. The second guard laughs.

"Champion just needs a few enhancements," the guard grins, sinister, "And Haggar has some new toys to try out." Shiro looks sick as he listens to the conversation, even though he can't possibly understand what the guard is talking about.

"You can't take him." You say, moving to stand in front of the cot, but the guards push you aside so easily it's almost laughable. "It'll be okay, Lyda." Shiro stands, bravely, but you can still see the worry in his eyes. You shake your head. Now is not a time to be valiant. It's a time to run away.

"Yes," the guard agrees as he and his partner guide Shiro from the room, "Everything will be okay, star-girl. I'm sure it won't be long until Champion needs healing again."

The door slides closed, shutting out the sound of Galran laughter.


	4. Chapter 4

Three weeks pass before you see Shiro again. You keep track of time based on meal arrivals, but have no appetite to eat the food when it comes. When you try to sleep to pass the time, you have blurry, messy nightmares that leave you sweating or shaking when you wake up, horrifying images that you can't quite remember evaporating before your eyes. You try not to think about what might be happening to Shiro, because that inevitably sends you spiraling towards thoughts of your own first few weeks on Zarkon's ship. You remember Haggar from when you were first taken, the cloaked woman with a poison heart who smiled when she said, "I never dreamed the old legends were true." You remember wanting to die.

When you finally see Shiro again, you're sitting on the floor of your cell, singing one of the lullabies your mother used to sing to you. You fall silent as your door slides open, and rise quickly when you recognize Shiro, bound between two guards. Relief floods through you. He's still alive. But your heart sinks as the guards pull him into the room and shove him down onto the cot.

His previously inky black hair now has a shock of white, and you can see new scars, different from the few jagged ones he'd gotten from gladiator injuries. These scars are fine, thin lines, so faint they're barely there--surgical incisions. His entire right arm is gone, replaced by a Galran prosthetic that's coated almost entirely in a layer of blood. The thought crosses your mind that Zarkon is already taking away human pieces of this man, already turning him into a weapon. But even that isn't the worst part.

The shock and horror of any physical changes are pushed out of your mind as you see the look in his eyes. He's staring straight ahead, pupils dilated and unmoving. In the times you had seen him before, his eyes had been expressive, showing sympathy, caring, determination. Now, they hold a look of pure, furious panic. It's the look of an animal about to be slaughtered.

"Wish you'd been there to see the fight, star-girl," one of the guards sneers, "You would've enjoyed it. Champion ripped a Nyxxian heart clean out. Even you wouldn't've been able to fix it." You can't stop the horrified expression that spreads across your face. Nyxxians are ferocious beasts, huge canine creatures with four rows of teeth and fur blacker than night. But the thought of Shiro tearing apart a living creature, ripping its heart out...

You're still standing, frozen, when the door slides shut. The only sound in the room comes from drops of blood falling softly onto the mattress and from your heart, which is thudding against your rib cage so hard you're afraid your bones might break.

Finally, you take a step forward, breathing, "Shiro--"

"Don't touch me!"

His voice is so loud, so hard that you flinch. The words fill the entire room. You notice that he's shaking.

You take another step forward. "Stay back!" He shouts again and turns to face you, but his eyes aren't focused on your face. His expression almost makes you flinch again; so much rage cannot possibly be contained in one person's eyes.

You take a shaky breath, trying to swallow tears. Bones all across his left side are broken--you don't need to have healing abilities to see the dislocated shoulder, or the crooked fingers. As you walk forward, a noise almost like a growl rips through Shiro's throat, and you have to force your feet to keep moving. Whatever Haggar did to him, he's still human. He's still Shiro. He's still the closest thing to a friend you have in this place.

When he sees that you're not stopping, Shiro leaps off the cot. His entire left arm hangs at his side, limp and useless, but he doesn't seem to be aware of the pain. "I said, STAY BACK!" He screams, swinging out with his right arm. Before you can move, the prosthetic crashes into you, flinging you across the small room. Your back smacks the opposite wall, and you fall onto your own cot. Spots dance before your eyes.

You remain lying on the cot for a minute, squeezing your eyes shut. Tears leak down your face as you try to catch your breath, and you can hear Shiro breathing heavily, as well. Once you can breathe again, you sit up slowly, massaging your shoulders and feeling the back of your head where it hit the wall to assess the damage. You're probably concussed, but nothing is broken. Just very, very bruised.

You stare at Shiro from across the room. His eyes are still unfocused, still panicked and angry. You don't know what's been done to him in the past weeks, and you don't know if you want to know. But you tell yourself you can get through to him.

"Shiro." Your voice is firm. His eyes skim over your face, but remain glassy. You stand up, taking a step forward, and raise your voice. "Shiro, look at me." You try to sound commanding, but your words are more like a plea.

His eyes finally focus on your face. You watch as his expression changes, frenzied look fading and being replaced by something quieter, sadder, more deeply afraid. He looks like he's in pain, and not just because of his injuries. "What's happening to me?" He whispers, and he sounds so broken that you almost start crying again.

Shiro sinks down onto the cot as you move forward again. He doesn't resist this time as you sit down on your stool across from him and place your hands on his left arm, beginning to mend the broken bones. 

"I can't do this."

"Shh. It's okay."

"No, I can't...they cut off my arm. They just...they cut it off I wasn't even--"

"Shh," you place one of your hands against the side of his face and hold it there for a moment. He closes his eyes.

When Shiro speaks again, his voice is steadier. "This...thing, this arm...it's evil. I wasn't even trying to kill, just to get away, and it--it just..." he trails off, but you think you understand the question behind his words. Haggar tears people apart and rebuilds them monstrous, barbarous, putrid. She takes good things and forces them to decay. If Galrans are evil, any Galran piece of you feels evil. Even if it's not something others can see. You can remember Haggar's smile, her raspy voice, the way her nails dug into your skin as she whispered, "You can't fight this, girl." But you can also remember your mother's voice as she stroked your face and whispered, "Stay soft, sweet girl. Stay soft."

"Do you remember what you said to me, the day you got this scar?" You ask, gently brushing your fingers across his face. You keep your tone light, almost conversational. Without waiting for an answer, you say, "You told me you'd stay Shiro. No matter what." When you glance up, Shiro's eyes are open again, and he's watching you. He no longer looks like he did before, like some sort of feral animal. You tell yourself that he's going to be alright, even if he's missing a few pieces.

"Zarkon wants to turn you into a monster. But he can't. No matter what he does, you can stay Shiro. Sure, it's easier to stop holding on--to let go, to not feel, to be what they want. When everyone around you is hard, it can be painful to stay soft." You find yourself repeating your mother's words, and pause for a moment before continuing, "But you're still you. No one can take that away. This arm?" You point to the prosthetic, "It's just...metal. You could use it to plant trees, or...to pick flowers, or to hug your family. It can be good."

"You know I'm going to have to use it to fight," Shiro says, and his voice is strained, "It was made to kill."

"But you didn't make it. You're just the one using it. Maybe you're stuck here for a few months--maybe even a few years. But I still believe that one day, every prisoner on this ship will be free. And being held captive and forced to fight doesn't make you evil. It makes your captor evil. The fact that you're so afraid of becoming a monster proves that you aren't one." Your voice has become more passionate as you've talked, and you're surprised at yourself. You've been numbing yourself for so long that it's hard to believe there's this much hope in you.

You stop talking, focusing on fixing what broken pieces you can. Shiro is finally relaxing, and although you can still see doubt in his eyes, you think your conviction showed through your words. This man is not a monster--his body has been torn apart and put back together, but Haggar hasn't yet touched his soul. He has to be able to understand that.

***

It takes a few hours to finish healing all the bones, and Shiro slips in and out of unconsciousness. By the time the last bone sets and mends, he's been out for about an hour. The guards didn't say when they'd return, but you're guessing it can't be too much longer now. You stand up and tear a piece of cloth from one of your sleeves, moving over to the cell's sink. You get the rag damp and then return to Shiro's side, beginning to wipe the dried blood off his new arm. He shifts slightly, and you glance up to find that he's opening his eyes.

"How long was I out this time?" His voice sounds the way you remembered it from before: gentle, strong, warm.

"About an hour." You continue to scrub blood off the arm, and he reaches out for the rag. "Here, I can do that." You're exhausted, so you don't think twice about handing him the cloth.

"It won't be much longer until the guards return, now." You murmur, looking at the door to your cell.

"Mmhm." He acknowledges your statement, scrubbing vigorously at the Galran metal to remove every speck of blood. You watch him for a moment.

"I'll help you, you know." You say without thinking, words slipping out of their own accord, "We'll see each other again. I won't let you forget who you are, that you're human. I promise." Shiro's stopped scrubbing and is studying you, staring into your eyes. You wonder if this is too much--if you're being too intense, too pushy. Two years of relative isolation haven't exactly worked wonders on your social skills.

"I have a promise, too," Shiro says, going back to cleaning his arm. His voice is determined, the same way it was the first time you met. "I promise you that I'm going to escape, and I'm going to get you off this ship. We'll get away, Lyda. I swear."

You know it's stupid to place so much hope in his words, and yet you can't stop yourself from smiling. You've been so afraid of disappointment that you'd given yourself over to resignation with your life as a prisoner. You forgot how good it feels to feel.


	5. Chapter 5

The Galrans aren't the most organized when it comes to gladiator fights. You can't figure out if they have a schedule or not. Sometimes the guards will bring Shiro to you a few times a day, and other times you won't see him for a week. Usually, though, it seems that they have fights every few days.

You don't know what the fights are like for Shiro, or who they make him fight. He doesn't like to talk about it, so the only information you can really glean comes from the guards' comments and Shiro's injuries. On days when he can hardly walk, or when he's unconscious, or you can see bone through the cuts and tears in his skin--you know his opponent was dangerous, and you want to cry with relief that he's still alive. On days when his eyes are unfocused and you can see hesitation in the defensive cuts on his arm, you know his opponent wasn't monstrous enough to relieve him of guilt. If he's killing creatures whose only purpose is to kill, you reason, he's doing good. But you know that not every being sent to fight is a killer, and when you're killing only to save your own life it's harder to justify.

Changes in Shiro's attitude also clue you in to what the fighting is like on a given day. Sometimes he talks furtively with you about escape, mapping out times and places that he's seen in the ship. Sometimes he talks about Earth, where humans come from, and you tell him about Ellythria. Sometimes he doesn't talk at all, and you sing your mother's healing songs to fill the silence. Sometimes he says he's a monster, and you insist that he's not, he's not, he's not.

Some days he tries to be brave but you can see tears in his eyes and you remember wanting to be stronger the first time your mother had to heal you, so you repeat the words she gave you. "You don't have to be strong, here," you tell him, "You just have to heal." You take turns holding each other on the days when sadness is an ocean that fills the room. You help each other breathe.

 

Months pass this way. When you're alone in your cell, you think about Shiro and marvel at how necessary your connection has become. In such a broken situation it's hard to define the bond you have--it isn't familial, or friendly, or romantic. It's like you're lost at sea, and the only thing keeping your head above the waves is this other person.  
So when the guards drop him off in your cell one day and he leans close and whispers, "I think I know how to escape, Lyda," your immediate reaction is fear. You can't lose this. You can't lose him.

But then you come to your senses, and you realize that this is what you've been hoping for. If anyone can escape this hell, it's Shiro. And if he can save himself, then maybe, maybe, there's a chance he can save you too, one day.

"How?"

"When the guards walk me here, we pass a door. Today as we passed by it was opened by a droid, and I saw what was behind it. It's the aircraft hangar. If I can take out the guards on my way here, my arm should be able to get me into the hangar--it's made of the same tech as the droids. Past that point things get more uncertain, but hopefully I'll be able to find an aircraft I can pilot and get off the ship with enough of a headstart to get away."

You listen silently, healing Shiro as he speaks. When he finishes, you bite your lip. "It sounds so risky," you protest, "The guards always cuff you, and you don't know what kinds of alarms could be installed in the hangar. Also, I wouldn't have time to heal you--what if you were hurt?"

Shiro frowns. "It may be the best shot I'll ever have. Besides, you could just heal me on the aircraft. You don't really think I'd leave you behind, do you?"

Part of you is elated at his words, but an even greater part of you knows you can't ask him to take you. "Shiro," you say gently, "You're going to need all the time you can get. Fetching me would take too long, and it would just throw more uncertainty into your plan. You don't know what sort of alarms or locks they've put on my door, either."

His face hardens with determination. "I'm not leaving you behind."

"You have to."

"No, I don't."

"I won't go with you."

"Yes, you will."

"Dammit, Shiro!" You curse the way your father used to, pushing away from him as you stand up. You turn your back to him and hug your arms to your chest, and when you speak again your voice is lower, but just as intense.

"What happens if you die trying to get me out of here? What if it slows you down just a second too much and a guard kills you, or your ship is shot down, or you're recaptured and sent back to Haggar? You really think I could live with myself if that happened?" Angry tears prick at your eyes, and you try not to cry as you continue, "If you get away, I'll have something to hold on to. I'll have hope."

Shiro's voice is quieter, placating, as he says, "I could die even if I don't try to save you." You turn around to face him once more.

"But if it was my fault?" Your lip trembles and Shiro looks like he's in pain as he protests, "It wouldn't be your fault if someone else killed me!"

You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. "You promised me you would escape."

"I promised that we would escape."

"So come back for me! Get help, find some way to defeat Zarkon, and come back to rescue me. It's too dangerous right now."

Shiro looks like he's about to protest, but you cross the small cell in two strides and throw your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest. "Please," you whisper, "Go."  
He falls silent. Slowly, you can feel his arms circling your shoulders. He hugs you back hesitantly at first and then clutches you to him like he doesn't want to let go.

"Okay," he says quietly, "Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...hi 2 anyone reading my trash story? I've already got 18 chapters of this posted on Wattpad, because I've never written fanfiction before and that was the only site I knew about. But then my friend was like "fucking archive of our own, man" and i was like "o shit waddup" so I've put my garbage story here, too. I crave that Validation™.
> 
> But also i don't really know how to use this site??? but i noticed a few people were reading the first chapter i posted so i posted some more??? idk. Anyway there's more of this on wattpad but i didn't feel like copying and pasting everything over now. 
> 
> i don't even know if anyone's going to read this??? but if you do thanks for consuming my Garbage™ i guess


	6. Chapter 6

Time seems to slow down after Shiro leaves. You wait anxiously for something to happen, hoping that somehow Shiro is injured badly enough that he needs to come to you after the next battle and wait to escape. But each time the thought passes through your mind, you hate yourself for wishing something so awful on him. In Ellythrian culture, wishing on stars holds real weight, so you push down your selfish desires and instead imagine the millions of stars Zarkon's ship is flying past and whisper, "Please, please let him get out alive."

Four days go by this way. No one enters your room; droids deliver your food. You spend hours thinking, hoping, worrying. You imagine everything that could wrong with Shiro's plan, all the ways he could be hurt or killed. One night you wake up from a nightmare crying and think to yourself that maybe Shiro already tried to escape, maybe he was shot or stabbed or had his limbs ripped off and he died without ever saying goodbye and you'll never see him again, you'll never escape, you'll be stuck here forever and no one as kind and brave and determined will ever be sent your way again and then you can't breathe and you can't turn off your thoughts and you sit crying and shaking and shaking and shaking until you're so exhausted that you pass out on the floor of your cell. You wish on the stars for a sign that he's okay.

On the fourth day, your door finally slides open. Your eyes are bloodshot and framed by dark circles as you stare up at a single Galran guard, petrified, not sure what's going on but praying that whatever it is, Shiro is okay. The guard cuffs you, and you comply without hesitation or complaint. As he takes you out of your cell for the first time in months, you feel like you're floating--like you left yourself behind and now you're watching your body walk down the hall but the hall isn't real, nothing is real and your stomach is a balloon that floats along behind you on a string. The guard pushes you along in front of him, shoving the butt of his gun between your shoulder blades to make you stumble ahead more quickly. It feels like you're walking forever.

As you go further into the ship, you stop recognizing where you are. Granted, you've only been allowed on limited, isolated excursions to places other than your cell, but something about the place you are now feels more foreign, more secret than it should. Even the guard pushing you forward seems a bit nervous.

Finally, you turn down a large, unfamiliar hallway. Doors line the walls, thicker and larger than your cell door. Eerie noise drift into your ears as you shuffle down the hall, moans and screams and sobs like icy fingers stroking your face, rustling the hair hanging over your ears, sending chills down your spine. You shudder involuntarily. It isn't hard to guess what this part of the ship is for.

The guard halts you at the very end of the hall. He places his hand against a scanner, and the door slides open.

You recoil instantly from the smell. Blood and burning flesh assault your senses, and you gag involuntarily. When you register the scene in front of you, your nausea intensifies, and you find yourself hunching over, clutching your stomach as you dry heave. The thought crosses your mind that it's a good thing you haven't eaten yet, today.

You had guessed from your walk down the hall that the doors you passed led to torture chambers. But, despite the amount of time you've been Zarkon's prisoner, you had never actually seen a person tortured. Maybe, if asked, you would have said that there are certainly creatures tortured on the ship--in a way, even being held prisoner here could be considered a form of torture. But this room contains the most graphic cruelty, the most disgusting violence that you've seen in your life. You want to break into pieces. You don't want to be here. You don't want to see this.

A Galran soldier is setting down a white-hot metal bar. The guard standing behind you says, "You're old-fashioned, Synda." His words are joking, but you're surprised to detect a hint of anxiety in his tone. Even he isn't completely comfortable in this place.

"Sometimes, old-fashioned methods are effective. There's more...buildup, using methods that a subject recognizes. When I pick up this bar, the human knows exactly what it is. When I heat it, he knows exactly what I'm going to do with it. As I wait for it to heat, he has plenty of time to imagine how it will feel, how his skin will burn..." The soldier--Synda--smiles, and it's one of the most terrifying things you've seen in your life. She speaks so fervently, so ardently, it's like torture is an art form to her. Or a god.

"Well, take a break." Your guard says, "We don't want him dead. Let the star-girl do her work."

At the guard's words, Synda shifts her attention to you. Her grin widens, and she strolls towards you slowly. "So," she says, grabbing your chin and turning your head to the side to inspect you, "This is the healer. Amazing..." She lets go of your face, but leans down to your ear and whispers, "We'll make a great team," before exiting the room.

Your head is spinning with fear and disgust and despair. What the hell is happening here? You try not to fall apart as the guard tells you, "Heal him. And be quick about it. Synda has more work to do." With that, he leaves you alone, shutting the door and locking you in the room.

You stand frozen, staring at the person in front of you. He's human, like Shiro, but smaller, with paler skin. His hair is caramel-colored and shaggy, hanging tangled around his sharp face and matted by sweat. His eyes look sunken and exhausted, and you can tell by the wiry muscles and protruding bones that he must have come from a labor camp, where prisoners work hard and eat little. Something stirs in your memory, something Shiro said, but you're too distracted to focus on it.

Since the moment you entered the room you've been assessing the human's injuries. He's strapped to a chair, which is the only thing holding him up, because both his kneecaps are shattered. His nose is broken at an odd angle, and it looks like the bones in all the fingers of his right hand have been crushed. His upper arms are striped with burns from Synda's bar, and there's a hole drilled through the skin of his cheek, so large you can see his tongue through it. You shut your eyes, trying to calm yourself. It's too easy for you to imagine what's happened to this man, looking at the tools on the table next to his chair. You can guess exactly how he got each wound, exactly what Synda did to him, exactly how much it hurt. You can hardly bear to think about it, so you can't imagine what the man in the chair must be experiencing right now.

It takes you a few minutes, but finally you take a shaky breath and go to the prisoner. You tell yourself he needs you, he needs a healer--but your heart sinks when you think about the guard's words--Synda has more work to do. You know you've only been brought to heal the man so that Synda can torture him all over again, and you almost wonder if it would be better if you killed him.

You place your hands on his face, first, focusing on regrowing skin over the hole that Synda bored. He groans at your touch, only half conscious, and stirs slightly.

"Please..." He begs, "Stop, please."

"Don't try to talk," you tell him, trying to make your voice steady and soothing, "I'm here to heal you." He falls silent, and you return your focus to fixing his face. It's slow work--regrowing tissue is one of the hardest techniques that your mother taught you--but after an hour the human only has a small, circular scar on the side of his face. You work on his nose, next, which goes much faster, and then move on to the burn wounds--you can heal those quickly, too, although they'll scar.

After three hours, all you have left to heal are the broken bones in his arms and legs. Your head is pounding and your throat is dry, so you pause and look up, examining the room. You avoid looking at the instruments on the table next to you, instead scanning the back of the chamber. You're relieved to find a sink, and leave the man momentarily to get water. You almost turn back when you see that there are more tools situated next to the sink, but spy a cup that looks like it's meant just for drinking--at least, you're pretty sure that's all it is. The receptacle appears clean, and you're afraid you might pass out if you don't drink something soon, so you fill the cup with water and chug it quickly. You're about to go back to the man when you hear him say, "Please...is that water? I'm so thirsty."

"O-of course," you stammer, feeling guilty that you didn't think to bring him water, first. You fill the cup hurriedly and return to the chair, where you hold the cup to the man's lips. He swallows the liquid like he hasn't had water in days--which, you think to yourself, is a possibility. When he finishes, you get another cupful, and another, and another. Finally, he tells you that he can't drink any more.

As you set the cup on the floor next to you, the man breathes, "Thank you." You nod, placing your hands over his crushed fingers and getting back to work. He appears to be regaining strength enough to talk, because he asks, "What's your name?"

"Lyda," you tell him.

"I'm Matt."

"Matt..." you murmur, the same memory from before stirring in your mind. Suddenly, you gasp. "Oh! Matt! Did you...did you know Shiro?"

He looks surprised. "He was the pilot of the mission I was on when we were abducted. He saved my life when these....aliens were about to make me fight some sort of gladiator battle." You realize from the way he says 'aliens' that he's assuming you're human, and you don't correct him, even though he must be wondering how you're healing him with your bare hands. Or maybe he's still too out of it to question that.

"He injured me so I'd be sent to a labor camp with my dad," Matt continues, voice raw, but steadier than it was before, "And I've been there for....I don't know how long. Feels like ages. Until...I think it was yesterday, some guards just pulled me out of the mines and brought me here, and they've been asking me all these questions, doing...things, to me." He shudders, and his voice is raw as he says, "I've been telling everything I know, but they won't stop hurting me. They think I'm keeping some sort of secret, but I'm not."

"What do they want to know?" You ask, trying to figure out what could be going on.

"That's the thing," Matt tells you, "I don't know. They keep asking about Shiro--if I know where he's going, if he's looking for something, but I don't even know where Shiro is. I thought he was on this ship. And they keep talking about a 'voltron.' I think it's some sort of weapon, but I don't know what it has to do with Shiro."

At his words, you almost start crying with relief. Shiro must have done it! He must have escaped! And it sounds like he got away with some powerful weapon, too.

"I can't believe it!" you lower your voice, but can't hide your excitement, "Matt, Shiro escaped!"

"What?" Matt blinks, "Escaped from where? Here?"

"Yes!" You nod fervently, "Listen--Shiro has been here since you were abducted. The Galrans--the aliens--have been making him fight in gladiator battles for entertainment. I heal him after battles, that's how we met. He told me four days ago that he had a plan to escape, but neither of us were sure it would work. But if the guards are so desperate to know where he is that they brought you here from one of the labor camps, that means he must have gotten away!"

Matt studies you, brow furrowed as he takes in what you just said. "Really?" He asks, "Are you sure? He escaped?"

"Yes," you're half laughing, half crying with relief, "It's the only explanation. And if he got away, then he can get help; he can save us!"

Matt doesn't look very sure, but he whispers, "Do you really think so?" You can see that he needs to believe it. He needs something to cling to--even if it's just a shred of hope--the same way you do.

"Yes," you say, determined, "I believe in him. He'll come back for us, one day, I'm sure."

Matt leans back and sighs, closing his eyes. "I hope so," he murmurs, "I really, really hope so."


	7. Chapter 7

You've just finished healing Matt's legs when the door to the chamber slides open. This time, there are two guards, and Synda is with them.

"Finished, healer?" She asks you, eyeing Matt hungrily. He blanches.

"I--I just finished, yes, but he's still weak; he needs to--"

"Excellent," Synda interrupts you, moving closer eagerly, "I've had plenty of time to consider new methods of...extracting information."

"Wait!" You cry out as one of the guards moves forward to take you away. Synda pauses, as do the guards. As they stare at you, you realize you have no idea what you're planning on saying. You just know that you can't let Matt spend any more time alone with this sadistic soldier.

"He--he's already told you everything he knows," You stammer, trying to make your voice sound confident and convincing. So far, you're not doing a very good job.

Synda raises an eyebrow and sneers, "Am I supposed to believe that?"

"It's true," you clench your hands into fists, "He doesn't know anything else. If you're after Shiro, I probably know more than he does. I've been healing Shiro after every gladiator fight since he's been here."

"Are you offering to take his place?" Synda asks, and her face twists into a sick grin. You shudder, faltering slightly as you reply, "I--I'm saying that this isn't necessary. Matt has already told you everything he knows, and I'll tell you everything I know if you just--stop." Synda seems to consider your offer. After a moment, she gestures to the guards. They step out of the room, allowing the door to shut and leave the three of you alone.

"Alright, healer. Talk."

You swallow. "Will you stop hurting Matt?"

"Maybe," the Galran smiles, "If I believe you've told me everything there is to tell."

You take a shaky breath, and begin to speak.

***

You talk for what feels like forever, telling Synda every scrap of information you can think of. You feel like a traitor, but reason with yourself that nothing you or Matt knows could really help the Galrans catch Shiro--right? It's not like either of you are hiding some big secret for him.

You talk about the time you spent with Shiro, editing out personal things and just stating facts. Information he told you about his home, his mission to Kerberos, his hatred of the gladiator fights. Synda seems uninterested but stays listening, and you chatter partially just to give Matt time to recuperate. When you begin running out of things to say, however, you finally disclose how Shiro planned to escape, and how he told you about it. Once you're finished, you fall silent.

"So," Synda drawls, playing with something thin, metallic and very, very sharp, "You knew about Champion's plan to escape, yet you didn't inform any guards?" You nod, heart speeding up as you watch her fingering a large knife.

"Well," she turns her back to you, studying the array of instruments she has on hand, "That is an interesting tidbit--I'm sure it will be helpful to Haggar to know exactly how untrustworthy her little healer pet is--but nothing you've told me changes anything. You're just wasting my time with information we already knew."

"Wait!" You cry out desperately once more as she begins to select a pair of pliers, "There is one other thing." Synda doesn't say anything, just pauses what she's doing to listen to you.

"Shiro...Shiro's planning to come back. I don't know when, or where, or how, but he told me he would come back for me. And I don't think he'd leave Matt or his father behind, either." This time, you fear that you actually are warning the Galrans of something that could hurt Shiro. But it's not like anyone can guess when Shiro's going to return, you tell yourself; it won't make that much of a difference. And maybe if they think they can use you and Matt as bait, they'll keep you alive. Maybe.

"Hmm," Synda slowly places the pliers back onto their tray, "Now there's something that could be useful." She appears to be thinking, and you hold your breath. She must know now that she's gotten all the information she could out of both you and Matt--in fact, you suspect that even when she was torturing Matt, she might have guessed he had already told her everything he knew. Will she continue torturing him anyway, and report to the higher-ups that she honestly believed he was holding out on her? Or will she take what you've just told her--which has the potential to be useful--and report that as soon as possible, which is protocol?

Synda finally leans down and murmurs to Matt, "I'm sorry to have to cut our time together short. I was having such fun." When she straightens up and turns back to you, you breathe a sigh a relief. This soldier may be the most sadistic person you've ever met, but it looks like she's not a risk-taker when it comes to her own neck.

"Thank you, healer," She smiles at you, voice sickly-sweet, "You've been helpful. And don't worry about the little human. If what you've just told me is true, it looks like we may have other uses for him." You look past her to make eye contact with Matt. He looks at you gratefully, but there's still fear in his eyes. You're afraid, too--you don't know what could be worse than the situation he was just in, but you hope that whatever other "uses" the Galra may have for him involve him being healthy and alive.

You want to say goodbye to Matt, but you don't know what to say with Synda standing there. Instead, you simply nod once at him as Synda re-opens the doors, and he nods back at you as the guards guide you out and back to your own cell.


	8. Chapter 8

Shiro walks down the residential hall of the Altean castle-ship, calling out the names of the other team members.

"Hunk? Lance?" He ducks his head into their rooms, only to find them empty, "Keith? Pidge?"

Unsure of where the younger paladins have wandered off to, Shiro goes into the bathroom at the end of the hall. "Anyone in here?" He raises his voice slightly, but there's still no response.

As Shiro turns to leave, he catches a glance of his reflection in the mirror--and freezes.

His own face is staring back at him, smiling sadistically, eyes manic and bloodthirsty. His galran arm shakes, covered in blood and clutching a human heart. Shiro turns around, horrified, only to see the bodies of the rest of the paladins scattered lifeless across the floor, gaping holes torn where their hearts used to be. He backs away slowly, dropping the heart in his hand, and then turns and flees the room. As he runs down the hall it grows longer, stretching further and further into a shadowy end that he can't see.

And then, suddenly, he's lying down. Tears, thick and heavy, obscure his vision as he mumbles, "I killed them, I killed them, I killed them." He can't breathe.

A voice somewhere above him murmurs, "Shhh. It's okay." Cool hands wipe sweat from his forehead. The voice says, "You're still Shiro. You're still Shiro."

 

Shiro wakes up from the nightmare in a cold sweat. He sits up in bed, breathing heavily, and looks around. He's still in his room on the Altean ship, in his own bed. He stands up and ducks out quickly, checking the other rooms lining the hall. Each of his teammates are sleeping peacefully.

When he returns to his room, Shiro sits down on his bed and sighs heavily. His nightmares have been getting even worse, even more vivid recently. And there's always that voice at the end, that one source of comfort that jolts him out of the dream. He grasps helplessly at it, trying to remember where the voice came from, who it belonged to. But his memories are murky water, and the only things that resurface are flashes--the soft hands, the soothing voice, every once in a while the tune of a song. He can't help feeling that he's forgetting something important.

 

By the time the paladins start filtering into the dining hall for breakfast, Shiro has already been awake for hours. He comes in from the training deck, fully suited and sweating lightly from his workout with the droids.

"Wow, Keith," Lance says as Shiro walks into the room, "Looks like Shiro beat you to the training deck again. You're really slacking off, huh?" He slings his arm around the shorter boy's shoulders and grins obnoxiously.

"Quit it," Keith grumbles, shoving Lance's arm off, "You're not even dressed yet." He is, indeed, still in his robe and lion slippers.

Lance shrugs, smile still in place. "So? I could take you down wearing nothing but these slippers if I wanted to."

"Wanna bet?"

Their typical bickering makes Shiro feel more at ease. Everything's fine, he tells himself, Everything's normal. It was just a bad dream.

"Knock it off, you two," Shiro admonishes as he sits down, knowing they'll just move on to a new argument in about two minutes.

"I really want pancakes." Hunk mumbles to himself as he stares at his bowl of Altean goo. Lance and Keith begin elbowing each other under the table.

"Quit elbowing me!"

"You started it!"

"Because you were in my space!"

"I was here first!"

"Why don't you guys just not sit next to each other for once?" Pidge asks, straightfaced, across the table. Both boys turn red.

"What--"

"I--"

"We don't always--"

"This is my spot!"

Pidge just goes back to eating her food, disinterested in Lance and Keith's protests about her comment.

Yup, Shiro thinks to himself, Everything's normal. But he still can't shake the feeling that there's something he needs to remember...


	9. Chapter 9

"A reconnaissance mission?" Shiro asks. He's sitting with the other four paladins in the castle's control room. Allura nods.

"Coran's been picking up some strange signals. He thinks the black bayard could be somewhere on Zarkon's ship."

"Really?" Lance asks before Shiro can reply, overt excitement coloring his tone, "Sick! What d'you think it turns into? A sword? A gun?" He gasps, "What if it's like some mega-cool laser cannon?"

Shiro frowns, ignoring Lance's speculation, and asks, "Is that really...worth the risk? I can fight just fine without the bayard. It hasn't caused any problems so far."

"I know," Allura sighs, "That's what I've been trying to decide. On one hand, it would be extremely dangerous to try to infiltrate Zarkon's base. If even one of the paladins was captured, you wouldn't be able to form Voltron, and I have no idea what would become of you as Zarkon's prisoner." Shiro suppresses a shudder at her words. He has a better idea than any of them about what it would be like to be Zarkon's prisoner...

"However," Allura continues, "The black lion and the black bayard are linked. If Coran's been picking up signals from Zarkon's ship, that could mean that Zarkon is using signals from the black bayard to track our location. Additionally, although he is not in possession of either the black lion or the black paladin, we don't know if he's figured out a way to use the bayard in some capacity as a weapon. And even if he hasn't, we're still learning about what the bayards can do when paired with their lions--what if the black bayard has some special purpose that could help us defeat the Galra empire?"

Shiro nods slowly. Her argument is convincing. But it's still mostly hypothetical; is it worth risking his team's lives?

"I'll go," Pidge says, stepping closer to Allura. She doesn't continue speaking, but no one needs to ask why she's so willing. She still spends most of her time searching for anything that will help her find her family--if there's a chance that there's information about their whereabouts on Zarkon's ship, she'll want to be there.

"Well, you would need to go," Allura says gently, "But you wouldn't be able to get onto the ship."

Pidge frowns and asks, "Why?" There's a challenging undertone to her voice, like Allura had better have a good enough reason. Pidge won't just blindly obey orders.

"If you were to go," Allura explains, keeping the situation hypothetical, "You'd need to pilot the green lion. It's invisibility and camouflaging would be the only way to get past Galran defenses undetected. The other four paladins would infiltrate the ship and search as pairs, so that they could help each other if trouble arose. It would be too dangerous for a paladin to go alone. And they'd need you waiting to get them out if something went wrong."

"So you want me to be the getaway driver?" Pidge clenches her hands into fists, frustration evident in her voice. Before she can continue speaking, Shiro places a hand on her shoulder and says gently, "Pidge." She turns to look at him.

"Shiro, you know there could be information about my family on that ship!" She says, keeping her voice steady. It's obvious that she's trying to stay reasonable, but her family is the one thing that makes Pidge disregard logic.

"I know," Shiro answers gravely, "But we need to keep the bigger picture in mind. I promise, we'll do everything we can to save your father and Matt once we get the opportunity. They were like family to me, too."

Pidge sniffs, rubbing at tears that are starting to build in her eyes as she mutters, "Fine." Even Lance has fallen silent at this exchange, and an awkward pause ensues.

"So, what exactly is the plan?" Shiro asks, turning back to Allura and hoping to take some of the attention off Pidge. The princess clears her throat and throws a concerned glance at the green paladin before answering.

"We managed to salvage some Galran soldier's uniforms from Sendak's attack on the castle," she says, "And Coran and I have been studying the technology. We've altered four suits to fit each of you, but there's still the issue of how much shorter humans are than Galran guards. You'll have to use camouflaging technology to make yourselves appear taller." As she speaks, she takes out four small devices that look similar to wristwatches, except that there's a few buttons where a clock would normally go. Allura slides one onto her wrist.

"Obviously, I could make myself taller on my own," she says, fastening the clip onto the band of the device, "But if I press this button," she presses a small green dial as she speaks, and instantly grows a foot, "It will make me appear taller." The paladins stare in shock for a moment before Lance grins and says, "Sweet! How soon do I get one?"

Allura smiles but ignores his question, continuing her explanation, "The only thing is that the extra height is just an illusion; if someone tries to, say, pat you on the shoulder, their hand will fall through to your real shoulder, ruining the disguise. So you'll need to avoid physical contact, although it should be okay for you to touch things." She reaches out to lift up one of her mice as an example. The paladins watch her hand reach down and pick up the mouse, but when she straightens back up the creature is cradled below where her hand appears to be. "It can be a bit...disconcerting." Allura says as she places the mouse back with its friends.

"Alright," Shiro nods as Allura presses the button a second time, returning to her normal height, "And what would we do once we got inside the ship?"

Now Coran steps forward and pulls a map up onto a holo-screen. "I've been trying to triangulate the signals," He says, zooming in on what the paladins assume is a rough map of Zarkon's ship, "And I've managed to narrow it down to somewhere in the west wing of the ship. There are different branches in that wing, however, and I can't pinpoint the location. You four," he says, addressing all the paladins except Pidge, "Would need to split into two groups and explore as much of that area of the ship as possible. I've installed cameras into the helmets of the Galran uniforms, so you'll be able to automatically document your findings. If you find the black bayard and a way to retrieve it, do, but don't take any unnecessary risks."

"Allura," Shiro says, turning back to the princess, "It sounds like you've planned this out thoroughly. I don't like risking anyone's life, but I trust you. If you think this mission is important enough, we'll go."

Allura nods, looking a bit worried as she responds, "I wouldn't risk any of your lives unless I believed this was extremely important," she says, looking a bit guilty. Shiro nods.

"What are you talking about?" Lance interrupts loudly, "We risk our lives like once a week fighting weird monster alien things. This sounds like a piece of cake!" His words help dissipate the tense atmosphere, and Shiro and Allura both smile.

"I suppose you're right," Allura says, "But this mission is just as dangerous as your others. You'll need to be very careful, Lance."

The blue paladin places a hand over his heart dramatically. "I always knew you cared about me." He says, and Keith rolls his eyes.

"She means all of us, dumbass." He says, and Lance shakes his head. "Nope. She said my name, specifically. Did anyone record that?"

Shiro interrupts the two, drawing Allura's attention back to him. "So, when do we leave?"

"Well..." Allura says, examining Coran's map, "We still have some details to go over, but once that's done...as soon a possible."

The paladins nod, each of them turning to listen to Coran as he begins pointing out entrance and exit points. As he listens to the Altean speak, Shiro tries to calm his nerves. If he could, he would never go back to the Galran ship. He's terrified that there's a possibility he'll be captured, that they'll transform him completely from man to monster. But there's also some tiny part of him that feels a need to return, like he left something behind on the ship that he needs to get back...


	10. Chapter 10

Pidge waits quietly as the other four paladins exit her lion; Shiro and Lance first, then Hunk and Keith. Once they're off, she sets a ticker for what she thinks is about five minutes and begins to inspect her equipment.

By the time they had finished going over the plan's details yesterday, it was getting late. Allura decided that the paladins should get some rest and that they could set off early the next morning. That gave Pidge the entire night to form a plan of her own.

As soon as she could get Coran alone, Pidge asked if he had another camouflaging device. He seemed suspicious at first, but the green paladin knew exactly which buttons to push to convince him to confide in her.

"I just...I'm kinda bummed that I'm not getting a chance to look for my family, you know?" She had said, shuffling her feet and trying to look embarrassed, which wasn't too hard. Pidge hates acting. "And you know I kinda use tech as a crutch. It takes my mind off things. I'm not gonna use it, I just want to study it."

"Oh," Coran had said, flustered by the show of emotion, "I, well, I suppose that would be alright. I did make an extra, just in case. I was a little worried Lance might break his, to be honest, but I don't think there should be any problem with you tinkering with it." And with that, Pidge had a disguise.

Her plan isn't that complicated. The Alteans aren't the only ones who salvaged Galran armor; and even though the pieces don't all fit her, the gloves fit well enough. With those, she should be able to get through the basic locks set on Zarkon's ship. After making a few adjustments to Coran's device, she's been able to create a layered hologram that will make her appear to be a Galran guard, instead of only making her appear taller. She hasn't had a chance to test the constitution of the updates, but she's trying not to worry about that.

She and the rest of the paladins will all have helmets with connected speakers for communication, so she'll be able to keep tabs on where they are and return to the ship before they get back. If all goes well, she'll be able to run her own reconnaissance mission--with a goal more important than finding some stupid weapon.

The timer goes off, interrupting Pidge's review of her plan. The other paladins should be far enough away now that they won't notice her leaving. She double checks to make sure she has everything she needs before turning on her disguise and whispering to her lion, "Okay, buddy. Hang tight. I'll be back soon." With that, she slips onto Zarkon's ship.

The other paladins are exploring the west wing, so Pidge goes east. She doesn't know exactly what she's looking for, but she's determined--if there's information about her family on this ship, she's got to find it. Yet, at the same time, she can't help feeling nervous as she walks down the long passageway. The other paladins have a partner to back them up--what if Pidge runs into trouble on her own? Even though she's gotten significantly better at fighting, she's no warrior. Or what if they need to make a quick escape, and Pidge can't get back to her lion in time? She knows she could be jeopardizing the entire mission with her actions, and can't manage to shake of the guilt weighing on her as she explores. But she's reminds herself that this is for her family, and that stops her from turning back.

For the first few minutes of walking, everything is relatively clear. This is partially relieving--Pidge doesn't want to run into any Galrans if she can help it, even with her disguise--but also frustrating. She needs to find some sort of computer or information storage unit, some sort of prisoner list. Surely there's an index of their labor camps somewhere on the ship. But where?

"Keith, Hunk, how are things going?" Shiro's voice comes over the intercom, buzzing in Pidge's ear.

"Fine," Now Keith is talking, "We haven't found much, though. Mostly storage units--food, extra armor, weapons. We're recording everything, but we can't take any of it without risking drawing suspicion."

"That's fine, we're just here for the bayard right now." Shiro assures him. "Lance and I haven't found much either. We've found what I think are some sort of...testing rooms, possibly where the Galrans engage in their prisoner experimentation. But they've all been empty, so far. There must be a gladiator fight or some event going on right now, because we've only passed a few soldiers."

"Um, sorry to interrupt..." Hunk says, cutting in when Shiro pauses, "But are there bathrooms on this ship? I really need to go..." The rest of the paladins collectively groan and ignore Hunk's complaint.

"Pidge, how are things back there?" Shiro asks, and Pidge starts at the sound of her name.

"Oh, uh, fine. All quiet here." She tells him, which isn't technically a lie. It's almost completely quiet where she is--she just didn't specify a location.

The voices over the intercom soon die down, and Pidge continues walking. She ducks into a few rooms lining the hallway, but finds nothing of importance and doesn't run into anyone, making her think that Shiro's probably right; there must be something going on that's drawn the Galrans to one area of the ship.

Then, just as she's beginning to stop worrying about running into guards, Pidge hears footsteps coming down the hall. She knows her disguise is still working, but panics anyway, looking around frantically. A small corridor breaks off from the main hallway, so Pidge ducks that way and presses herself against the wall. The footsteps turn down the hall she was just in and walk towards her, then pass without any hesitation. She catches a glimpse of a Galran guard.

Pidge breathes a sigh of relief and waits for the footsteps to fade, listening carefully. Once she can't hear them anymore, she moves to go back to the main passage--and freezes. There's a voice, so faint she can hardly hear it, coming from the end of the small corridor. Pidge strains her ears, listening, and catches what she thinks is singing.

"Where the moon river flows, the stars will sing..." The voice doesn't sound Galran, and she's never heard one of Zarkon's soldiers singing, so Pidge turns and begins to follow the song down the corridor. As she gets closer, the words become clearer. "If I could, I would give you everything, la la la lala la lala la..."

At the end of the corridor there's a sealed door. A scanner is situated next to it, and Pidge hesitates before placing her Galran glove over the screen. What if the person inside is dangerous?

"But I'm poor, and I'm weak, so I sing, though things are bleak. Close your eyes, go to sleep, dream of me." It certainly doesn't sound like any song a Galran would sing...plus, the voice sounds sad, and weak. It's most likely a prisoner, Pidge decides, and finally places her hand over the scanner.

The device picks up on her Galran armor and the door slides open with a soft hiss. Instantly, the singing stops. As Pidge steps into the room, the door shuts behind her. She's left in a small cell, furnished only by two cots, a sink, and something that looks vaguely like a toilet. A girl is sitting on one of the cots. Her hair is limp and tangled around her sallow, sunken face, and her hands are shaking. Her eyes are bloodshot and framed by dark bags, and they stare up at Pidge with a mixture of fear, confusion, and caution, reminding the paladin that she's still disguised as a Galran guard. As Pidge steps into the room, the girl stands unsteadily, using the wall for support.

"You can tell Haggar I haven't changed my mind." She says. Her voice wavers a bit, but she still sounds determined, "If she thinks starving me will do anything except kill me, she's wrong."

"No, no," Pidge says, quickly pressing the button on the device from Coran. Her disguise disappears, "I'm not Galran. I'm a paladin of Voltron, sent by Princess Allura of Altea. I'm here to help."

The girl stares at Pidge, a mixture of shock and some other unreadable emotion coloring her features as she chokes out, "Matt?" The name has a jarring effect on Pidge; for a moment she can't speak, and the girl continues talking, "No, you're not Matt...I--I'm sorry, you just look so much like him. Who...who did you say you are?"

"Uh--it--it doesn't matter," Pidge shakes her head, "I can help you, but...how do you know Matt? Is he another prisoner here? Do you know where he is?"

"I'm sorry," the girl shakes her head, "I haven't seen him in...I don't know how many months. And I can't remember the last time I left this cell; they could have taken him anywhere."

"Do you at least know--" Pidge begins to speak, but is interrupted by Shiro over the intercom. "Pidge, get the green lion ready to go--I think we may have found the bayard, but I'm also pretty sure that we've attracted some...unwanted attention. No problem right now, but we should probably get going. Keith, Hunk, you guys head back, too."

"Roger that." Pidge responds, turning off her intercom and cussing quietly under her breath. The girl remains silent, watching her.

"Okay," Pidge tells her, "We have to get out of here. Now. Follow me."

"Wait..." the girl says, and Pidge thinks she's going to protest--say that she has no idea who Pidge is, that this could be a trap, that this isn't safe. But instead, she asks, "What's your name?"

"Pidge."

"Pidge," the girl repeats, like she's testing how the word feels on her tongue, "I'm Lyda."

"Nice to meet you," Pidge replies hastily, turning her disguise back on, "Now let's get out of here." As Pidge turns to open the door, Lyda takes a few steps forward, pausing to close her eyes and press her fingers to her temple.

The two girls jog down the corridor, and Pidge checks for guards in the main hallway. After making sure it's clear, she gestures for Lyda to follow her. The paladin is too preoccupied with getting back to her lion to notice that Lyda lags behind, and that her breathing is ragged and strained. They make it back without incident only to find Hunk and Keith already waiting at their designated exit point.

"Pidge!" Keith growls, keeping his voice low but not trying to hide his fury, "What are you doing! You were supposed to wait with your lion!"

"Yell at me later," Pidge brushes him off, going into the unused Galran airlock where Coran had told them they could slip in and out of the ship. Her lion is still invisible, but she has no problem finding it.

"Who's she?" Hunk asks, and Pidge turns back to look at Lyda. She's leaning against a wall, breathing heavily and clutching her head in her hands.

"A prisoner," Pidge answers, "She knew my brother."

"You broke out a prisoner?" Keith struggles to keep from shouting, "Pidge, she could be working for Zarkon!"

"Well, I don't think she is!" Pidge snaps, "So just shut up and get in the lion!" Keith looks like he's about to respond, but at that moment Lyda crumples to the ground, groaning softly.

"Guys, what's wrong with her?" Hunk says, a note of panic creeping into his voice.

"Hunk, pick her up and get in the lion," Pidge says, "We need to get out of here. We can argue when we get back to the ship." Keith looks like he's about to protest, but instead just shakes his head in disgust and climbs into the green lion. Pidge follows him and Hunk comes after, carrying Lyda.

"Shiro, we're ready to go." Pidge says into the intercom, and Shiro responds, "We're almost there. We had to shake off some guards who started tailing us--I'm pretty sure they're gone, but be ready to go as soon as we get there."

"Roger." Pidge nods, getting her lion ready to fly.

"Uh...Pidge?" Hunk says, setting Lyda down gently, "What do we do with her?" Pidge glances back at the girl nervously. She looks...really sick. Like, is-she-dying sick. 

"Uhh..." Pidge says nervously, "I--just make sure she doesn't die. We can heal her back at the castle, she'll be fine."

"Okay..." Hunk says, not sounding very sure of Pidge's promise that the girl will be okay. To be honest, Pidge isn't sure either. Lyda's barely conscious, and she keeps groaning and rubbing her temples.

Then, Lance's voice comes over the intercom. "Open up, Pidge, we're here!" Pidge hurries to let the two remaining paladins board, and the second the hatch closes the lion takes off, with Pidge double checking to make sure the invisibility is on.

"I think we're okay," Shiro says, "The guards were getting suspicious but I don't think they--" He freezes, staring at Lyda.

She's staring back at him, her expression once more unreadable. Her voice is dazed as she murmurs, "Shiro?"

Before he can respond, she collapses.


	11. Chapter 11

Shiro sits in the sick room, staring at the girl in the healing chamber. Pidge has fallen asleep; she's leaned against his arm, snoring softly. The two of them have been waiting for hours, since they landed back at the castle and Shiro ran to the healing chambers with Lyda in his arms.

He kept his explanations brief. After Pidge told everyone about her covert excursion into Zarkon's ship, he explained that Lyda was a half-human with the power to heal people, who Zarkon had kept prisoner on his ship for...it had to be about three years, now. He'd told them that she had healed him after almost every battle, but he hadn't said much more than that.

Allura, Coran, and Keith were angry at Pidge. They admonished her for taking such a huge risk, and demanded to know how they were supposed to trust this stranger. That was when Shiro had stepped forward and explained that he knew her. "We can trust her," he'd said, and something in his voice stopped anyone from questioning him.

The truth is, Shiro is grateful to Pidge. Once he saw Lyda, every memory of her came flooding back. He can't stop thinking about how he had promised to come back, how she must have been waiting for months, wondering where he was...If Pidge hadn't gone off on her own, Shiro would have left Lyda back on the ship, none the wiser.

"You don't have to wait here, you know," Coran says, entering the room and keeping his voice low so as not to wake Pidge, "She won't be out for at least a few more hours. She was severely malnourished."

"I'm alright here." Shiro replies, and Coran lets it drop. He checks the machine that's currently in use and then leaves.

Shiro knows everyone is probably wondering what, exactly, his relationship was with Lyda. But he isn't planning on offering any further explanation--because how is he supposed to? How could he explain that she was his anchor, the only thing that kept him sane--that kept him human? He owes her more than he could ever repay, and he doesn't know what to do.

So he waits.


	12. Chapter 12

Everything is dark. Where are you? You try to move, but it feels lile you're swaddled in a cocoon. The sensation isn't unpleasant, but it sets you on edge. Where are you?

Your memory is hazy. Everything was cold. The air seeped into your bones and made them brittle. And the guards stopped bringing you food, and your stomach grew teeth and tried to tear you apart from the inside out but you wouldn't give in--you wouldn't give in--and then Matt was there, but it wasn't Matt because they took Matt away and then there were other people, other voices and you were so fucking hungry but now you're warm and you can't move and everything is dark. And now there's light.

The healing chamber cracks open and you can feel the restraints that were holding you up slide away as you stumble down from...whatever pod thing you were just in. The first thing you notice is your hands--they're so clean, and there are no cuts or bruises. You look down at yourself and you're wearing some kind of soft, white jumpsuit and your stomach isn't growling and for a second you wonder if you've died. Everything is so bright. There hasn't been this much light in years.

"Lyda?" You jerk your head up, startled by the voice but then so, so indescribably happy because Shiro is standing right in front of you. He's looking at you and he seems so concerned but it's the first time you've seen him without any injuries and your thoughts won't stop racing and your heart won't stop racing and all you can do is run to him as your face crumples and you start to cry. You hug him so, so tightly and he holds you up because you can't stop sobbing because everything is too much.

"Shh," He mumbles into your hair, "It's okay, you're safe. I promise, you're safe." But that only makes you cry harder. You've been bottling up a sea of emotions and now your tears are a tidal wave and Shiro is the only thing keeping you from drowning, just like before. You can't breathe, and then you can.

You cry for what feels like an hour. When your tears finally run dry you're exhausted in every sense of the word--physically, mentally, emotionally. But you feel safe for the first time in years. Shiro is still supporting you, and he's so warm that you think you'll never be cold again. Your eyes start to drift shut, and Shiro must notice because he steps back, keeping his arms circled around you so that you don't fall.

"You need to get some rest." He says, soft, and you shake your head.

"I'm sorry," Your voice feels foreign--too strong, too clear, "I...I don't know why I'm so tired, I just...there's so much to talk about. Where am I? What happened to all those other people? What happened after you escaped? Oh, and there are things I need to tell you. Matt--"

"Shh." Shiro cuts you off, murmuring, "It's okay. I asked for some alone time; I didn't want to bombard you with information or with questions right after you finished healing. We can catch up on everything once you're feeling better. First, you need to sleep."

"I was just asleep!" You protest weakly, not actually putting up much of a fight. Your head is spinning with questions, but for right now you really are exhausted. You were just freed, nearly starved, from a Galran ship where you've been held hostage for the past three years, enduring things you haven't even disclosed to Shiro. Such extreme trauma takes a heavy toll on the body.

"Come on," Shiro breaks your embrace and takes your hand, guiding you towards a door, "There's been a room prepared for you. You can rest while I talk to everyone else, and when you're ready we'll all meet and talk. But for now...you just have to heal."

***

"Okay, wait," Lance begins to speak, drawing the eyes of the other four paladins, Allura, and Coran. The seven of them are sitting on the couches in the lounge outside the training deck, where Shiro has been giving more background about Lyda as she sleeps.

"So, she woke up, cried, and then went back to sleep?" Lance asks, "That was it? That was the big thing you were waiting for in the sick room for, like, thirteen hours?"

Shiro frowns. "She was a prisoner on Zarkon's ship for almost three years, Lance. None of us--not even me--completely know what she went through in that time. I think needing to rest after that is completely understandable."

"Yeah, rest a lot." Lance whines, "This is boring!"

"Um, not saying I agree with Lance," Pidge interjects quickly, "But...how soon do you think we can talk to her? She knew Matt."

"I know," Shiro says gently, "But we need to be patient. For now, we just have to wait again."

***

You wake up with your eyes puffy and sore from crying, but it's hard to be uncomfortable, because the rest of your body feels like it's lying on a cloud. You forgot that beds are supposed to be soft, and it's been years since you've slept with pillows or blankets of any sort. You don't want to get up--you want to go back to sleep--but you know you owe it to Shiro to share what information you have about what happened on Zarkon's ship after he left.

You sit up and stretch, yawning, and look around your room. It's pretty standard--bed, dresser, shelf, some chairs and a small table. But for a second, you feel overwhelmed once more and tears prick your eyes. You can't believe you're actually free.

Before you can collapse into a blubbering mess, again--you cringe as you think about how you sobbed on Shiro--you reign in your emotions. "Okay, Lyda," you whisper, "Get it together. Stay calm." You've had plenty of practice compartmentalizing.

You investigate the dresser, looking for clothes. There's a note, which you scan quickly.

Hello, Lyda. I'm so happy to have you onboard our ship. We can make a space suit for you once you've settled in, but for now I've stored some of my own clothes in your room. I know they might not fit exactly, but I hope they'll do. There's a bathroom right across the hall.  
Best,  
Princess Allura of Altea

You open the dresser, touched by the kindness of this complete stranger. You're a bit shocked to see that the clothes are all dresses--and fancy ones, at that. They seem way too formal for everyday wear, but you suppose the signature on the note did say the writer was a princess.

After rifling through the clothing, you pick out what seems to be the simplest gown and cautiously head towards your door. You peek into the hall, making sure no one's there, and then hurry into the bathroom. You know you're eventually going to need to talk to people, but right now you just want to avoid them.

The bathroom is heaven. You can't remember the last time you showered, and you almost fall asleep again as the hot water runs over you. It takes all your self control to tear yourself away and get dressed. When you do, you're pleased to find that Allura's clothes fit you well enough--it's not exactly the most flattering thing you've ever worn, but after dressing in what was basically rags for three years, you're not going to complain. There's a shelf next to a mirror where you find a brush. It looks like it belongs to someone else, but you don't see any extras, so you hope whoever it is won't mind sharing with you.

Brushing your hair ruins your good mood from the shower--it's so tangled that it feels like you're just ripping hair out of your scalp. You also haven't had a haircut in three years, so it's getting long; by the time you finish your arms are sore.

When you're finally done getting ready, you pause and look in the mirror. You haven't seen your reflection in a long time, and you feel like you're staring at a stranger. Her hair hangs wet around a face more sunken than you remember it. She isn't malnourished or sick anymore--in fact, her cheeks are lightly flushed. But there are still faint circles under her eyes, and although her skin is clean there are faint scars that weren't there the last time she saw herself. She looks older--not just her body, but something in her eyes. They're flat, guarded, staring from the mirror like they don't quite know if they're allowed to be happy yet.

You sigh. You feel safe, healthy, almost happy for the first time in years, but it's hard to let yourself relax. You feel like you're going to wake up and realize this has all been a dream. Are you ever really going to be able to let go of what happened to you on Zarkon's ship, to move on?

Someone knocks on the bathroom door.


	13. Chapter 13

When you open the door, you find yourself staring at a teenage boy. His hair is brown, cut short but a little shaggy. He has olive toned skin and lanky limbs, with a slightly pointed face. His features have an impish quality to them.

As you study him, he studies you--and, abruptly, the bored look on his face transforms into a smirk.

"Hey there," he says, in a voice too sultry to sound real, "The name's Lance. I'm the super awesome paladin of the blue lion--you may have heard of me."

"Um..." you stand awkwardly in the doorway of the bathroom, not sure what to say.

"Here, let me show you to where the others are waiting," He says, smoothly taking your arm in his and guiding you down the hall. "You're Lyda, right?"

"Um, yeah."

"You clean up nicely."

Before you can respond, an exasperated voice interrupts.

"Lance!" When you look up, there's another boy walking down the hall. His skin is lighter than Lance's, but his hair is darker--the same inky black as Shiro's. As he gets closer, you can see that he's shorter than Lance, but less wiry and more toned. His face is scrunched in annoyance, and he has a deep frown line that makes you think this expression is familiar for him.

"No way, Keith," Lance says, sultry voice turning sulky, "First come, first serve!"

Keith pauses. "She's not a potluck dinner," he says, referring to you, "She's a person."

"Shit, you're right," Lance turns to you, "Sorry, that was a pretty misogynistic thing to say."

"It's alright," you reply, "Thanks for acknowledging the problematic aspects of that joke. We can get back to the story, now."

"I'm not here to flirt, Lance," Keith says, rolling his eyes, "I'm here to make sure you don't bother her."

"I'm not bothering her!" Lance protests, "I was just showing her around!"

"Right."

"I'm serious!"

"You were using that voice."

"What voice?"

"You know, like this." Keith drops his voice two octaves and slows down his speech, imitating the tone Lance was just using to talk to you.

"I do not sound like that!"

"You do so!"

"Um..." you mumble, awkwardly interrupting their bickering. They both stop, straightening up and glaring at each other.

"Sorry," Lance says to you, "This loser is my rival. He's always trying to cramp my style."

"We're on the same team, you idiot!"

Lance ignores Keith's protests and brushes past him, continuing to guide you down the hall. "Right this way, Lyda," he says, smiling at you as he hurries away from the other boy.

"Hey!" Keith follows after, and Lance rolls his eyes. You suppress a smile.

***

Keith and Lance guide you to what looks like a living room. Strewn around a small table, there are couches on which five other people are seated. They all look human, but then you notice that two of them have pointed ears and limbs just slightly longer. One is a tall man with a shock of red hair and a large moustache, and the other is a regal looking woman with long, lightly colored hair that spills over her shoulders as she turns to look at you.

The other three are humans; you recognize Shiro, but two of their faces are unfamiliar. The two strangers are sitting next to each other, providing a stark contrast. One is large, one is tiny. One has dark skin, one is pale. One is a boy, one is a girl. You finally recognize her as the person who rescued you--Pidge. She's bouncing her leg impatiently.  
Shiro stands and walks over to you when you enter.

"How are you feeling?"

"Good." You offer a smile, but it feels shaky--everything feels so...normal. No one is scared, or injured, or shouting at you. It's strange.

"Why'd you have to send Keith to check on me?" Lance whines, flopping onto an unoccupied couch.

"We didn't." Pidge tells him, not taking her eyes off you, "He ran after you himself," she breaks eye contact with you to smirk at Lance, "I think he was worried you'd find a new girlfriend."

Keith's face flushes bright red at the exchange, furious, and Lance yells at Pidge, "How many times do I have to tell you? He's my rival, not my girlfriend! I wouldn't date someone as lame as Keith!"

Pidge puts her hands up in surrender, smiling cheekily at the boy's defensive response. "Okay," she says. Lance throws a decorative pillow at her.

"Guys, cut it out." Shiro says, motioning for you to take a seat. You get a couch to yourself, which, although spacious, makes you uncomfortable. Everyone is staring at you.

"Lyda, it's lovely to meet you." The regal woman speaks, "I am princess Allura of Altea." Her voice is strangely accented--you can't quite place it.

"This is Coran," she continues talking, "My fellow Altean. And these are the five paladins of Voltron," she gestures to the humans. "You already know Shiro, but that's Lance, Keith," she points to the two boys you just met, "Pidge," your rescuer, "And Hunk." The one you didn't recognize. Before you can form any sort of response--or ask who the heck voltron is, and what paladins are--Allura says gently, "I'm sure you have many questions. We'll answer them as best we can. But we also have questions for you about your time on Zarkon's ship. You may have valuable information." You cringe at the word "valuable", but she doesn't seem to notice.

"Please, ask us anything you need to know," Allura says, smiling at you, "And then, if you can, we would like to hear your story."

Your heart pounds. You know you're in a safe space, but this still feels like a lot of pressure--all these people are watching you. You take a deep breath to steel your nerves, then clear your throat to speak.

"Um...who's Voltron?"


	14. Chapter 14

As it turns out, you don't need to ask many questions. Once Allura begins to explain to you what Voltron is, the entire story slowly unravels. The Alteans tell you about Voltron's background, and the paladins tell you about how they discovered the Alteans. It's a bit confusing--people keep interrupting each other and skipping around--but you think you understand what happened. Shiro escaped, fittingly, in an escape pod. He managed to make it back to Earth, where the other four humans rescued him from some military commanders. From there, Lance was drawn to the blue lion of Voltron, which took them to the Alteans, who helped them find the rest of the lions.

It hurts more than you'd like to admit, knowing that Shiro had already returned to Zarkon's ship once before and left you there. You reason that he wouldn't have had a chance to help you anyway, that it was more important to get the lion--but you can't believe he forgot about you. You try not to look too upset, because you know he lost nearly all his memories and he already looks guilty enough as he helps tell the story, but...still.

Once they've given you an overview of what's been happening aboard the ship--castle--whatever it is--for the past year or so, it's your turn to tell your story. Pidge looks incredibly eager; based on the fact that her appearance is so similar to Matt, you've gathered that the two are related, probably siblings. It makes sense that she'll want to know anything you can tell her about him, but...the news you have isn't exactly good.

"Um..." you look down at your hands, which are resting on your lap, and begin nervously twisting your fingers together, "Okay. After Shiro escaped I was left alone for...I don't remember exactly how long, anymore. A few days. Then, I was brought to a..."you avoid saying 'torture chamber', wanting to spare them as many details as possible, "A room that I had never seen before. A Galran soldier was...um...she was questioning Matt. She thought he was hiding information about Shiro." Both Shiro and Pidge look pained at the mention of Matt's name.

"I was called to heal him," you continue, and Pidge interrupts.

"Why did he need to be healed? What do you mean by 'questioning'?"

"I--" you pause, shaking your head helplessly. You can see tears forming in her eyes, and you have to fight to keep your own dry. The memory of Matt and Synda is one of the worst you have. It still haunts your dreams.

"I healed him as best I could." You say, avoiding Pidge's gaze. She interrupts again, demanding, "What do you mean 'as best you could'? Tell me what happened to my brother!" She's so frustrated she's shaking.

"I mean...I can't heal everything!" You say, still trying to avoid giving any details, "I...I don't know how much Shiro told you about me, but some injuries leave scars when healed, and if an old injury healed wrong I can't go back and fix it--"

"They were torturing him, weren't they?" Pidge asks. Her voice is quieter, lower than before. She doesn't really need to ask.

"Yes."

For a moment, the room falls silent. Everyone is staring at Pidge, who's staring at the floor.

"Is he alive?"

"The last time I saw him, he was alive and in good health." You say. 'Good' might be a stretch--but he was good for a Galran prisoner.

Pidge nods, slowly, and you take that as a sign to continue your story.

"I spoke to him as I healed him...he said they were asking about Voltron. When the soldier came back, she agreed to stop...questioning...Matt, as long as I told her everything I knew about Shiro." You glance up at him guiltily, but he just nods at you. "You did what you had to," he murmurs. You bite your lip.

"I didn't have much to tell them...but I did say you had promised to come back." At this, Shiro looks like he's in physical pain once again--like you just stabbed him or something.

"After that, I was separated from Matt. If I had to guess, I'd say that they sent him back to the work camp. He had a--an...old injury," You glance at Shiro, "As far as I could tell, it was bad enough that he wouldn't be able to walk without limping. He wouldn't be able to compete in gladiator fights. And if for some reason he had been turned into a gladiator, I would have healed him, unless..." you don't have to say 'unless he died.' From the sick looks on everyone's faces, you can see that they've gathered that.

"The rest of the time was just...business as usual." You say with a weak smile. You're lying through your teeth, but they don't need to know about everything that happened after Shiro left. It's not like it affected anyone other than you. "Every once in a while, they'd bring me someone to heal, but for the most part I was just...there."

"But they were starving you." Pidge says, and you pause.

"Um...yeah..." you mumble, trying to figure out how much to tell them, "That was just...an experiment. Haggar's idea. It's not...it wasn't anything important."

"Well, what kind of experiment was it?" Pidge asks, and you suppress a shudder as you think about the answer to her question.

"It wasn't...can we just...I really don't want to talk about this right now." You say, feeling your heartbeat speed up. You don't want to think about this you don't want to thinkaboutthisyoudon't wanttothink--

"It's okay, it's okay." Shiro says, and you realize that you've squeezed your eyes shut and are holding your head in your hands, fingers pressed against your temples like you're trying to keep your skull from cracking open.

"Can we just...can we please talk about something else?" You whisper. Awkward silence ensues, and you keep your head in your hands just so that you don't have to look up at everyone staring at you. Look at the crazy-girl, the star-girl, the experiment--

"Um...do you want something to eat?" Hunk breaks the silence. It's the first time he's spoken to you, and he looks incredibly nervous. "I mean, I know that it's all weird alien food--or maybe it's not for you, aren't you part alien?--you don't have to eat, I just like cooking when I'm nervous--not that I'm nervous, it's just, you know, talking about Voltron and Zarkon and stuff isn't really my favorite thing to do--"

You cut him off. "I would love something to eat."

"Oh," he smiles, "Cool."

"Alright!" Lance says loudly, clapping his hands together as he stands up from the couch he was spread across, "Dinnertime! I'm starving." The tension slowly dissipates as everyone starts to stand and move out of the room. Shiro walks over to you.

"Lyda," he says quietly, watching the rest of the paladins filter out, "I'm...so sorry. I never would have left--"

"Shhh." You smile up at him, a genuine smile. Are you hurt that he forgot about you? Yes. But it hurts more seeing how much he's beating himself up over it when you both know it wasn't really his fault. "We can talk later. I don't know how long it's been since my last meal. Right now, I just want food."

***

"No way." Lance crosses his arms.

"I'm just saying. If you do the math..."

"She's like, eighteen. Tops."

"Dude, weren't you listening to Shiro? If she was kidnapped when she was seventeen and she was prisoner for, like, two or three--"

"She's twenty." Pidge passes by Keith and Lance, who are standing in the middle of the hallway arguing. They pause for a moment, startled by the green paladin's interruption.

"Told you." Keith smirks, "She's an adult. You're...what? Fourteen?"

"Try seventeen, asshole!"

"Still a little kid."

"Oh, what, and you're Mr. Adult because you're like, a week older?"

"I'm already eighteen. So, yeah, I'm an adult. Not that I go after every female I lay eyes on in space."

"Hey, I don't go after Pidge!"

"You thought Pidge was a boy."

"Well," Lance huffs, "I'll have you know that I like older women." Keith rolls his eyes.

"Whatever you say, Romeo."


	15. Chapter 15

Hunk's cooking is the best thing you've tasted in three years. Literally. After a diet of flavorless mush, the steaming, savory soup he serves you is almost too much for your taste buds to handle. You don't recognize a single ingredient--it is, indeed, 'weird alien food'--but you don't care. You practically inhale your first bowl before asking for a second.

"So, Lyda," Lance says as you start on your second helping of dinner at a more reasonable pace, "Out of curiosity, how old are you?"

"Seriously, Lance?" Keith groans, and you glance between the two of them, unsure of what's wrong with his question. Is there something you're missing?

"I'm...well, I must be twenty, now." You answer, a bit shocked to discover that you honestly aren't completely sure of your age. Birthdays weren't exactly memorable in your Galran prison; time tended to blur together.

"Told you so," Keith mutters in a voice just loud enough for Lance--and you--to hear. Lance rolls his eyes.

"Why do you ask?" You inquire, still wondering if you're missing something.

"Oh, no reason!" Lance blushes, "I just...wanted to get to know you better. We're pretty close in age, so that's cool."

"Oh, okay." You nod, "How old are you?" His blush deepens.

"Seventeen."

"Wow. That seems so young." You say, and when an indignant look crosses Lance's face you clarify, "I mean, to be so far away from home. Saving the universe, and stuff."

"Oh." The indignant look fades from Lance's face, and for a moment he seems sad. "Yeah, I guess so."

"I'm eighteen." Keith interjects, "Pidge and Hunk are both seventeen, like Lance. Shiro's the oldest. He's...twenty four?" You blink, not sure of what to do with this information. You'd guessed that the four younger paladins were in their late teens, but Shiro's age surprises you. Somehow, you thought he'd be the same age as you. Although, when you think about it, he must have been unusually young to be chosen for a mission to space; is he some sort of prodigy pilot?

"Hey, Allura," Lance raises his voice, interrupting your thoughts, "How old are you?" The princess, who was sitting farther down the table, turns to look at him.

"Well, I was cryo-frozen for ten thousand years..." She says, "But I suppose that kept me from aging. Developmentally, I'm only....forty six years old."

Keith chokes on the sip of water he was just taking, and Hunk's mouth hangs open. Even Pidge looks surprised as she listens to the conversation.

"Forty six?" Lance repeats, his voice jumping up an octave. Allura looks confused.

"Yes...is that surprising? I suppose it must seem old to you, being earthlings, but Alteans age much more slowly. There's not a set conversion, but in human years I'd probably be considered somewhere in the age range of twenty to twenty five."

"I'm seventy three." Coran tells the group enthusiastically. Keith begins to laugh.

"Well, Lance," he says between chuckles, "You said you like older women."

***

After everyone has eaten and people begin to filter out of the dining room, Shiro approaches you.

"Lyda," he says quietly, "Can we talk?" You nod, and nervous butterflies start to form in your stomach.

On Zarkon's ship, your relationship with Shiro was simple. Intense, but clear--you were what kept each other alive. You were necessary components of each other's lives, like food or water. But now, you're in a place where you don't need each other in the same way. Yet you can't just erase your past together--your feelings for him are still intense. You just...don't know what they are, anymore. And that makes you nervous.

You follow Shiro through the castle's hallways. The rest of the crew have gone their separate ways, so it's just the two of you.

"Lyda, I..." Shiro sighs, "I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." You frown. This again?

"Shiro, I already told you, it's fine--"

"Bullshit. I left you on that ship for a year after promising to come back." He has the same pained look on his face again.

"You did come back."

He turns to look at you. "If Pidge hadn't been there..." he says, voice low, "If she hadn't gone exploring on her own...I would have left you. I may have never rescued you."

"You can't blame yourself, Shiro." You insist, even though hearing him admit how he forgot you so easily hurts. A lot. He had more important things to think about--you'll get over it. "What matters is that I'm here, now. In the end, you did rescue me. If you hadn't escaped, none of the rest of them--the paladins, the Alteans--would be here. So Pidge would never have gotten to Zarkon's ship, and she never would have found me. You saved me when you got out."

He shakes his head.

"I'm serious, Shiro! There's nothing to be sorry about." You've stopped walking, and he turns to look at you. The two of you pause, staring at each other.

"I had dreams about you." He says.

"What? I thought you...forgot...?"

"I did, when I was awake. But I'd have these nightmares--stuff about Zarkon's ship, things I'd never remember once I woke up--and there'd always be this voice at the end, someone telling me to wake up. That it would be okay." He looks a little embarrassed as he continues, "It was your voice. I know, now, but before I'd always wake up and you would just...slip away."

You reach out and wrap your fingers around his, squeezing lightly. His hand folds around yours in response.

"I don't know how to do this, Lyda," he tells you, voice breaking, "There's just....so much. How do...how do you move on? How do we get past this?" You don't need him to explain his question. You know exactly what he means.

How does a person learn to live again, after being surrounded by death? How do you carry your sadness and still learn to be happy? How do you heal wounds that are so deep you're drowning in them?

"Sometimes," you say gently, "Things can't go back to the way they were before. Injuries can heal," you reach up and brush your fingers across his face, softly, fingertips just skimming the bridge of his nose, "But they leave a scar. And that's okay. You're still alive, and life is still beautiful."

Shiro smiles, then shakes his head. "I'm sorry," he apologizes again, "I shouldn't...I shouldn't burden you with this stuff. You have enough to deal with. I just...I've gotta be strong, you know? For the rest of them. The other paladins...they're really just kids, and...I don't know. It's not easy, what they're doing. They try not to show it, but I know it's..." He sighs once more. 

"You can't always be strong," you tell him, and he nods.

"I know," he says, "I know."

***

Time passes quickly on the Altean ship. The paladins leave for missions, and you spend time painting, reading, singing--doing all the things you couldn't do as a prisoner. When you land on foreign planets, you walk through soft grass barefoot or pick up strange rocks and keep them in your pockets. Allura presents you with a spacesuit about a week after your arrival, and Coran teaches you how to use an Altean machine to alter Allura's extra clothes to fit you better. You're happy. When they're not on missions, you listen to Keith and Lance argue and laugh, you try to figure out how to make cookies with Hunk, you ask Pidge about her latest inventions. You remember what it's like to have friends.

Sometimes, on the bad nights, you find yourself wondering why everyone keeps you around. They could drop you on an inhabited planet and not notice your absence, you tell yourself--their healing technology is far more advanced than Zarkon's, and they really don't need you as much. You're so used to being kept around only because you're 'valuable'.

But then one night Hunk comes to you because he's having a panic attack and he doesn't know what to do, he says, he doesn't know what to do he doesn'tknowwhattodohedoesn'tknow and you say, "Shhh, shhhh. It's okay, it's okay, it's okay." You hug him until he can catch his breath. And one night Lance has a nightmare and he can't sleep and you stay up for hours listening to him talk about his family and when he cries, you cry, too. You're the one who fixes Keith's broken knuckles when he punches his wall over and over and over and you don't ask why he did it because you know he doesn't have an answer, just too much anger and fear in one body. You're the one who sees Pidge's hands start shaking whenever someone says Matt's name and you hold her small fingers with yours until they're steady again.

And maybe it's because there's something maternal, something comforting about you, and maybe it's just that they don't know who else to be vulnerable with, but you realize that they do need a healer, in some ways. Because really, they're all just kids. Just kids who are training and fighting and trying to save the world, but no one prepared them for this. They're risking their lives and sacrificing so much and they do their best to cope but sometimes they can't. And you're the only one on the ship who tells them, "You don't need to be strong, here. You just need to heal."


	16. Chapter 16

"Lyda." Haggar's voice is grating and too loud, ringing in your head. You squeeze your eyes shut.

"Lyda!" She's under your skin, inside your brain, infecting your blood.

You open your eyes, and your mother is there. She's bleeding and broken and dying and the only person she can't heal is herself.

"Mom," you choke out, and she smiles at you. Her voice is so, so gentle and she whispers your name, your real name, and you start crying.

"I won't do it," you say, "I won't." Haggar smiles, but it's not gentle like your mother. It's all sharp teeth and sharp tongue and sharp voice as she says, "Lyda."

 

You wake up gasping, face wet with salty tears. When you sit up you're in your bed on the castle-ship that has become your new home, and you're warm and safe and alone. You kick off your blanket and stumble out of bed, grasping onto the nearby dresser for support. Your fingers are shaking.

On top of your dresser, there's a flower that Hunk brought you from the last planet they were sent to for a mission. Its petals are beautiful, almost crystalline, and it smells like sugar. You reach out with trembling hands and pick it up, watch as the petals wither, turning brown and brittle.

You drop the plant and back away, breathing hard. Your heart won't stop racing. It feels like you're stuck in your nightmare as you stagger into the bathroom across the hall and splash water onto your face, gripping the side of the sink for support.

When you finally turn the water off and look up at the mirror, Lyda stares back at you.

***

"We'll be here for about three days," Allura says. Everyone's eating breakfast in the dining hall, except Coran, who's flying the ship down towards a small planet.  
"The ship just needs a couple repairs from our last scrape with Zarkon's fighter pilots. This planet is pretty out of the way, so I don't think it's on the Galra's radar right now. Metaphorically. But it's a perfect place to stop; it's very small, but it's commonly used as a place to repair ships and rest. There will probably be other travelers here, so we'll have to be careful. We don't know who's for or against Zarkon," the princess continues her explanation, "The locals, as far as I know, are quietly resistant to Galran rule, although they mostly just try to avoid attracting attention." She pauses for a moment, thinking, and then adds, "You know, you might like it here. If I recall, it's culture is not entirely different from earth's."

"So it's, like, a giant alien truck stop-slash-motel?" Lance asks enthusiastically.

Allura blinks. "Um. Yes?"

"Sweet! Allura, you gotta let us explore this place."

"Well...we'll be landing the ship a mile or so outside of town, but I suppose we will need to go and buy parts...it couldn't hurt if you want to spend some time looking around. You'll have to be very careful, though."

"Yes!" Lance fist pumps, "Alien field trip!" You smile at his enthusiasm, a little excited yourself. It's been ages since you've actually been to a town, however small. You remember going out with friends when you were younger, shopping and finding kitschy cafes and making your parents worry when you got home late...

"I wonder if there'll be any cute alien babes." Lance says, nudging Hunk and wiggling his eyebrows.

"Hunk already has a girlfriend, remember?" Pidge grins, and Hunk groans. "I told you, it's not like that!"

Allura rolls her eyes, and Shiro suppresses a smile. He glances at you from across the table, and you catch his eye, giving him a questioning look.

"It's a long story," He says to you, "I'll tell you about it later."

"Alright," you agree, bemused. Lance and Pidge are saying something about rocks, now, and Hunk keeps protesting, "You guys, stop!" Even Keith is smiling.

You almost forget the nightmare you had just a few hours ago. Almost.

***  
"Lyda, look!" Lance says. He's run a little ways ahead of where you're walking with Hunk and Keith. Pidge and Shiro stayed back to help Coran find parts for the ship. Allura decided not to even come into town, saying someone needed to stay back and watch the castle. She told everyone to be back by sunset.

"What is it?" You ask, catching up to where Lance has stopped. He's pointing at a small restaurant with a fluorescent sign written in a language you don't recgonize.

"Fast food." Lance tells you reverently, staring at a picture of a food that you don't recognize.

Keith scoffs. "That could be anything. We're light years away from fast food restaurants."

"Dude, that's a hamburger." Lance insists, pointing at the picture. You don't know what a hamburger is, but it sounds gross.

"They don't have cows here!" Keith says, rolling his eyes.

"It's a hamburger." Hunk agrees. Lance nods decisively. "We're going in!"

Five minutes later, you find yourself in line, staring at a list of pictures with unrecognizable words. Allura gave all of you translators that you can use to talk to people, but unforunately, the little earpieces don't work on text. You have to rely on the pictures to order, and end up selecting a pink, frothy drink and handing over a fistful of the small coins Coran provided you with.

Once your entire group has ordered, the four of you sit down at the counter, since every booth is taken.

"Guess this place is pretty popular," Hunk comments, staring at all the different aliens chattering as they eat their food.

"That's a good thing!" Lance responds, "It means the food is good!"

Keith hunches over on his stool, muttering, "It's too crowded." You smile. It almost feels like you're sixteen again, out with friends.

When your group's order number is called, you start to stand up, but Lance stops you.

"I'll get it," He says, glancing over your shoulder. He rushes over to the order counter without waiting for you to respond.

You spin around on your stool to see why he rushed off, and Hunk and Keith do the same. Once you see who's behind you, it isn't hard to figure out. There are two aliens waiting at the counter for their food who look vaguely human. They have more feline faces, with pointed teeth, and there are long tails protruding from their space suits. Beneath their helmets, you can see that each one has four eyes, glittering and jewel-like, and ears pointed like Allura's. To you, they look feminine, but gender doesn't mean much in outer space.

Lance wastes no time in striking up a conversation as he collects your food. You watch, amused, as the aliens stare at him.

"Hi, I'm Lance," Hunk says behind you in a husky imitation of the flirtatious voice the blue paladin so often employs, "I'm super-awesome. You've probably heard of me."

You laugh. "You sound just like him!"

The aliens seem to be warming up to Lance's advances, which surprises you. They're smiling and nodding as he speaks, and one seems to be talking to him, too, batting all four sets of eyelashes.

"Great," Keith groans, "He's never bringing back our food."

"Hey, look on the bright side," you smile, "Dinner and a show." Hunk laughs.

"Yeah..." Keith mutters, still watching Lance, "I'd better go drag him back." He hops up and walks over to his fellow paladin quickly.

"Okay..." you murmur. You turn to look at Hunk, but he just shrugs at you as if to say, 'Don't ask me.'

You watch as Keith interrupts the conversation and smile to yourself. You can almost see Lance whining from across the restaurant. Finally, though, the two of them walk back with your food. The aliens wave at Lance, giggling.

"Man, why do you always have to butt in?" Lance complains as he and Keith sit back down. Keith hands you your drink, and you take a hesitant sip. It's sweet, and surprisingly airy.

"I'm hungry." Keith mutters, taking a bite of his food. Lance rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically.

"This almost tastes like coriander." Hunk comments, eating long strips of something fried--at least, it looks like fried food.

"Well, luckily for you, I can be incredibly charming incredibly quickly. Those chicks invited us to a party tonight." Lance says, ignoring Hunk.

"How do you know they were girls?" Keith asks.

"I don't--that's not the point!" Lance grumbles, exasperated, "Did you not hear what I just said? Alien. Party. Tonight."

"That's a stupid idea." Keith says through a bite of his food. Lance throws his hands in the air, disgusted.

"You're impossible!" He turns to you and Hunk.

"Hunk? Lyda? I know you guys aren't as lame as this loser."

Hunk scratches the back of his neck nervously. "I don't know...Allura did want us back for the night. And she told us to be careful, with all the different aliens around..."

"We could sneak out!" Lance whispers conspirationally, "It would be, like, the coolest thing ever!"

"Hunk's right, dipshit," Keith interrupts, "We're supposed to be careful."

"I would be careful!" Lance pouts, turning to you, "Lyda?"

On one hand, you know Keith and Hunk are being more reasonable. Allura does want you back at night, and going to an alien party isn't exactly cautious. Who knows what you'd encounter there? But on the other hand, a party sounds...really fun. And this planet has been safe so far. It couldn't hurt that much, right?

"I guess...I'll go if you go." You say slowly, smiling guiltily. Hunk and Keith groan.

"Yes!" Lance fist pumps enthusiastically, then turns back to you and wiggles his eyebrows, "Sounds like a date."

This time, you groan with Hunk and Keith.


	17. Chapter 17

Your memories of parties are hazy, but you know you've been to a few before. You remember getting dressed up and going out, dancing to music so loud you couldn't hear your heartbeat and laughing with friends and tiptoeing back into your house while your parents slept. You're excited the entire walk back, reveling in the old but familiar anticipation. However, you can't help feeling a bit nervous, as well. It will be risky sneaking out, and Lance insisted that everyone promise not to tell Shiro. When you protested, he raised an eyebrow and said, "You know he'll go straight to Allura. It's not his fault--he's too responsible for his own good." You feel guilty, but you know Lance is right. There's no way Shiro would let you and three teenagers go out on your own, on an unfamiliar planet, to an unfamiliar party with unfamiliar people.

Honestly, you know you're being irresponsible. Normally, you probably wouldn't agree to do this. But right now, for whatever reason, you want to be reckless--you want something to distract you. Because that dream is still in your head, and it's stirring up things you'd rather not think about. You'll take any excuse to avoid sleeping tonight.

Of course, that's not what you're telling yourself. You're telling yourself that you'll be careful, and that nothing dangerous has happened so far on this planet. You're telling yourself that the ship will just be a mile away, and that Lance would go anyway without you--someone needs to keep an eye on him. You're telling yourself that you won't do anything too risky, that you'll make sure things don't get out of hand. You're telling yourself that these guys need a break--they deserve a chance to go to a party. You spend the entire walk home coming up with excuses in your head for why this is an okay idea, but every time you glance at Shiro you still feel guilty.

By the time you all get back to the ship--Shiro and Coran's arms are loaded with parts--the sun has set. Allura is waiting to let you all in, and after chatting for a bit about the town, she guides the two men to the central control room of the ship to set down their supplies, leaving you with the other four paladins.

"Pidge," Lance hisses in an exaggerated whisper.

"What?" She turns to look at him.

"Come here."

"I'm standing three feet away from you."

"Just--fine, whatever. Look, we have some top secret information for you."

Pidge raises an eyebrow skeptically, muttering, "Okay...what?"

"We're going to an alien party tonight!" Hunk says, grinning widely.

"We're--Hunk, come on! I wanted to say that part!" Lance whines, abandoning his whisper.

"What part?" Shiro asks, walking back into the room. Everyone turns to look at him, including you. You drop your gaze quickly, though, feeling guilty about the secret.

"Um..." Lance mumbles, freezing.

"They're just arguing over who gets to tell Pidge about these weird aliens we saw at the restaurant." Keith rolls his eyes. Lance shoots him a grateful look, which he ignores.

"Oh." Shiro says, already looking away, "That's nice. I'm gonna go get some training in before bed. Anyone wanna join?"

"I'll come with." Keith says, and when no one else offers to join the two paladins leave for the training deck. Once they're out of the room, Lance turns back to Pidge.

"Look, I met these totally hot alien chicks at the restaurant, and they invited us to this super cool party in town tonight. Gave me directions and everything. Hunk, Keith, Lyda, and I are all going. You wanna come?"

"Uh...aren't we supposed to be cautious?" Pidge asks, still skeptical.

"We will be cautious!" Lance says defensively. "You don't have to come if you don't want, I was just asking. But you can't tell Shiro. Or Allura. Or Coran."

Pidge sighs. "This sounds like a really bad idea..." She pauses, thinking, then asks, "Will there be a lot of other...aliens there?"

"Um, pfft--YEAH. Obviously." Lance says, "It's an alien party. How could there not be a ton of aliens?"

Pidge scratches the back of her neck, looking at the floor. When she looks back up, she finally says, "Alright. I'll go."

"Nice!" Lance holds his hand out for a high-five. When Pidge just stares at him, he high-fives Hunk instead.

"Alright, just act casual til everyone goes to bed." Lance instructs the three of you, "We'll meet here about...an hour after Coran starts snoring. Sound good?" You all nod. Pidge goes to help Coran with repairs--with instructions to convince him he should just go to sleep for the night and work more tomorrow. Lance goes to tell Keith the plan, and Hunk goes to find a snack.

You head back to your room, deciding to get ready for your excursion. When you open the door, your eyes land on the dead flower from earlier that morning. You pause, then quickly grab the brittle stalk and throw it down the trash chute in the corner of your room. You stand still for a moment, heartbeat speeding up for no reason, and then refocus on the party.

"That's all I have to worry about, right now," You tell yourself. You're almost able to believe it's true.


	18. Chapter 18

"This is Falcon to Big Red. Big Red, do you copy?" Lance speaks into his intercom.

"What?" You can hear Keith's voice, marred by static, as he responds.

"Do you copy, Big Red? Operation Fiesta is a go."

"I'm coming down right now. And this isn't a shitty spy movie, quit it with the nicknames."

You, Hunk, Pidge, and Lance are waiting just outside the castle to begin the walk to town. For the past half hour, Lance has been whispering code names over the intercom to get everyone to meet him out front. It's been a little confusing, but you've all caught on pretty quickly.

As you wait for Keith, Pidge raises an eyebrow and asks, "Big Red? Really, Lance?"

The blue paladin blinks. "What? I like it."

"You're not very good at coming up with nicknames," Pidge tells him, rolling her eyes.

"I am so! What's wrong with my nicknames?"

"Greenbean? Papa Bear? Come on."

"Those are good!" Lance protests. Pidge just sighs and shakes her head.

"Yeah," you pipe up, "Why am I 'Roswell'?"

"Y'know, because you're half alien." Lance says. You stare, waiting for the punchline. When he sees that you don't get it, he continues, "Roswell? UFOs? No?"

"She's not from earth, Einstein." Pidge reminds him, turning to you, "Don't worry about it. It's an alien thing."

"Okay..." You murmur. Before you can say anything else, Keith jogs up to the group.

"Hey." He nods at everyone, then turns to Lance. "What's with the nicknames?"

Pidge groans loudly, and as the five of you begin walking towards town Lance enthusiastically defends his nicknaming abilities.

***

"This is insane!" Lance shouts over the blaring music, "It's like a club!"

You've just walked through the door of the building that the aliens from earlier gave the address to. There are multicolored lights flashing to the beat of high-speed, electronic music with words in a language you don't know. To one side, you can see what looks like a bar of some sort; a local alien in a uniform is serving drinks and food. On the other side of the room, there are plush couches and chairs strewn, with tables interspersed. The main area, however, is filled with a gigantic dance floor. The tiles change colors each time a person steps on them, so right now they're flashing like strobe lights.

You can't help grinning. Dancing is a huge part of Ellythrian culture. The town square hosted dances every few weeks, and on special holidays and occasions people would gather together to perform or watch traditional dancing. This is more like what you'd see at the parties you went to, rather than anything traditional, but it all reminds you of your home.

"Come on!" Lance says eagerly, starting towards the dance floor. He grabs the hand of the nearest person to him--Keith, who blushes like mad as the other boy pulls him towards the dance floor.

"Hey, hang on a second--" The red paladin protests angrily over the music, but Lance just cackles and pulls him into the sea of dancers.

"I'm gonna go check out the food," Hunk says to you, chuckling at Lance and Keith, "Do you guys wanna come?"

"Nah," Pidge says, scanning the room, "I'm gonna talk to people. See if anyone knows anything about Galran labor camps."

"Be careful," You tell her, "We don't want to tip off anyone unfriendly that we're here..."

"Don't worry," She assures you, flashing a grin, "I'm good at being sneaky." With that, she trots off towards the couches, where groups of aliens are chattering. Hunk turns to you.

"Lyda?"

"I think I'm gonna join Lance and Keith on the dance floor before they disappear," You say, smiling up at the yellow paladin, "But thanks."

"Sure!" He says, "I'll be over there if you need me." He gestures vaguely to the bar area, and you nod before splitting up.

You can see Keith and Lance near the edges of the crowd. Lance is dancing circles around his team member, laughing while Keith crosses his arms stubbornly. As you get closer, you can hear him yelling, "Come on, Big Red! Live a little!" Their antics make you chuckle, but instead of going to join the boys you head for the center of the crowd. You love spending time with the paladins, but right now...you need to get lost in the crowd. You need to get lost in the music.

So you do. Surrounded by unfamiliar people--aliens--whatever--and unfamiliar music, you forget your worries. The bass obscures your heartbeat, the melody obscures your thoughts, and the bodies pressed around you don't judge you as you sway between them. You're not a healer, not a prisoner, not a victim, not an experiment--you're not Lyda. You're just another body, spinning and swaying and shifting, letting the music carry you away.

You don't know how long you've been dancing when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn around, and find yourself face to face with Hunk.

"Lyda!" He shouts, grinning. He's holding a cup filled with some bubbling, clear liquid that you don't recognize. "Lance sent me to get you! Come on, everyone's over there!" He gestures vaguely to the left side of the room, where the couches are. You're a bit reluctant to leave the dance floor, but figure that it would probably be rude to refuse when Hunk waded through a sea of sweaty bodies to come find you. You follow him over to niche with a circle of couches, where the other three paladins are seated and it's a bit quieter.

"Lyda!" Lance exclaims as you sit down, "I sent Hunk to get you!"

"I know," you say, giggling at his enthusiasm. You notice that he's holding the same drink as Hunk--in fact, each team member has a cup. "What are you all drinking?" You ask.

"It's called Shu--Shi--Sho--ah, quiznak. I don't know what it's called, but it's FUCKING DELICIOUS!" Lance yells.

"Um...okay." You say, bemused. Pidge hiccups.

"Guys..." Hunk says, giggling uncontrollably, "Are we drunk? I think we're drunk. I'm pretty sure we're drunk."

"Look at Keith!" Lance points, still shouting, at the red paladin. He's sitting across from you on another couch, staring blankly at the cup in his hand and nodding his head to the beat of the music emanating from the dance floor. "Keith is fucking wasted!" Hunk's giggling becomes breathless, teary-eyed laughter.

"Okay," You laugh nervously, both amused and worried, "I think you guys have had enough..." You reach out and take the cup from Keith's hand. As you place it on the small table in between the couches, he looks up at you.

"Lance dances...so good." He tells you earnestly.

"Hell yeah!" Lance yells, throwing his arm over Keith's shoulders, "I'm like fucking Fred Astaire!" You have no idea who Fred Astaire is, but you nod in agreement.

"Guys," Pidge says, "Allura is gonna be so pissed." It falls silent for a moment, and then Lance, Hunk, and Pidge all erupt into laughter simultaneously. You can't help but smile at their enthusiasm, although you are a bit worried--how are you supposed to navigate your way home with four inebriated paladins?

Hunk pushes his cup into your hands. "Lyda, try this," He urges, "It tastes...it tastes like...really, really good."

"I dunno..." You chuckle nervously, "You guys are pretty smashed..."

"Do it!" Lance shouts, then begins chanting, "Do it, do it, do it." Pidge and Hunk both join in. You smile and sigh, exasperated.

"Oh, screw it. Gimme the cup."

***

You're not sure how long you've been at the party, now. Two hours? Three? You only had a few sips of the drink Hunk gave you--which was, indeed, fucking delicious--but whatever it was, it was strong. You're not as wasted as the rest of the paladins, but you're certainly a little tipsy. Or maybe a lot tipsy. Everything feels a little fuzzy around the edges, and you can't stop giggling.

By now, Lance has gathered a circle of party-goers. The two feline aliens from the restaurant earlier are here, along with a few others--one has skin that glitters like crystals, and another has scales and four arms. Everyone is drinking, laughing, and listening to Lance as he finishes explaining how to play 'Spin the Bottle.'

"Alright!" Lance grins as he places his empty cup in the middle of the circle, "Does everyone get it?" A variety of heads nod simultaneously, some removing helmets and placing them on their laps--the air on this planet is breathable (at least, for humans), and the five of you were wearing helmets mainly for the use of the intercom system embedded in them.

The game commences amid jeering and laughter. Lance goes first, spinning the cup enthusiastically. It lands on the person with glittering skin, who lets out a high-pitched giggle before brushing back a curtain of long, purple hair to lean in and kiss him.

Pidge, who's sitting to your left, mumbles to you, "This feels like a cheesy teen party scene that would be in a TV movie."

"Yeah," you agree, "Or written into a bad fanfiction." The two of you laugh.

You watch as the cup makes its way around the circle, laughing when one of the feline aliens spins and it lands on Pidge, who turns beet red. When it comes time for Keith's turn and his spin stops at Lance, you laugh even louder. The two boys look extremely embarrassed--although not entirely unhappy--as they kiss in front of a cheering Hunk and a grinning Pidge. As the game goes on, you almost feel like you're back home, at a party with your old friends.

And then, suddenly, everything changes. You don't know what shifted--maybe it was a line in the song that just came on, or maybe it was the way the alien across the circle smiled at you, or maybe it was those sips of the sparkling drink--but Pidge passes the cup to you and says, "Your turn, Lyda," and you can't breathe. It's that name, Lyda, that makes you freeze. You felt so at home, so much like you were back on Ellythria, that you let yourself forget who you are, now--what you are now. And you know you can't forget, because now your fingers are burning and you're never safe, never never never and you need to get away from all these people because it's not safe here. It's not safe anywhere.

"I--I have to go. I think I might be sick." You mutter, staggering to your feet. You can hear your friends calling after you, but you don't listen as you push past party-goers, frantically trying to make your way to the door.

Your heartbeat is speeding up and your fingers are burning and your brain is like a broken record, stuck on one word--never never nevernevernevernevernevernever--and you shove past bodies with your shoulders, hands clenched over your heart because you can't fucking touch anyone and then the door is in sight and you're almost out and you need to get away but before you can touch the handle it swings open and you look up and you freeze.

Shiro stands in the doorway, staring at you in shock.


	19. Chapter 19

"Lyda?" Shiro moves towards you, shouting to be heard over the music.

"Don't touch me!" You scream, backing away. Your heart is racing, adrenaline surging through your bloodstream. Your hands feel like they're on fire. You need to get out of here.

You run past Shiro, dodging his outstretched hand and racing through the door. He looks shocked, confused, worried--but you don't have time to stop and explain. You need to get away.

"Lyda!" You hear him calling, running after you. You know he's probably freaking out, not sure where the rest of the paladins are, not sure what happened to you. You feel tears stinging your eyes and brush them away as you run. You don't have time to explain.

"Stay away from me!" Your voice is ragged, raw. But he keeps running after you. He doesn't understand.

The streets are dark and empty. You're grateful for this. You need to find plants--trees, flowers, even just grass. You need to find something alive that isn't a person. Shops blur as you race past them, not sure what direction you're heading in. Didn't you see flowers on your walk to the party? There has to be a field or a forest or something outside of town. It hurts to breathe, but you keep running. And Shiro keeps following.

By the time you reach the outskirts of town you're a mess. Your forearms are burning like you've stuck them in a flame, your breathing is heavy and hitched, and your hair is tangled into snarls around your blotchy, tear-stained face. You choke out a sob as you spot what looks like a park, with a small pavilion surrounded by a neatly manicured garden of unfamiliar plants. You collapse among stalks and leaves and petals, uprooting fistfuls of flowers.

Shiro catches up to you quickly, but he falls silent as he watches you. You close your eyes and keep your head down, not wanting to see--but you can feel the stalks in your fingers withering and dying, just like the flower from earlier this morning. You should have known one plant wouldn't be enough, that you couldn't suppress this for long. Haggar's voice rings in your head, "You can't fight this, star-girl."

You don't speak, and neither does Shiro. The only sound comes from the rustling of the plants and your breathing. As the heat drains from your fingers, your heartbeat slows. After a minute, you drop the withered flowers and reach up to wipe away your tears.

When you open your eyes, there's a four foot radius of dead plants surrounding you. Your breath hitches in your throat as you survey the damage; did you really do this?

"Lyda..." Shiro's voice reminds you that you're not alone, and suddenly you're terrified to turn around. You don't want to see his face. You don't want to see him looking horrified, or disgusted, or angry. "What's going on?" He asks, and you want to cry again, because how are you supposed to explain this?

Silence stretches between you. Finally, you whisper, "Haggar did things to me, too."

When you turn around, Shiro is staring at you with a mixture of pity and horror. "What...when? Why didn't you tell me about this? What did she do?"

You stay sitting, letting your head drop so that your hair hangs in curtains around your face and you don't have to meet his gaze. "When they first took me," you begin to explain, voice still barely a whisper, "When they realized what I could do. She...broke something. Reversed something. She twisted my healing, made it...opposite."

"What do you mean?"

"I..." your voice breaks, "I don't know how to explain it. I'm still a healer, I still heal, I still..." your voice trails off, but when you glance up at Shiro you can see that he understands what you're trying to say. You're still good. Right?

"But the pain," you continue, "It doesn't just go away. It's energy. All of it is energy but negative, backwards, I don't know. It builds, and it hurts, and I have to get rid of it. I have to...poison...a living host. I...I don't know how to make it stop." You can hear Haggar's voice, see your mother's crushed hands--so broken that they can never heal again. "I'm toxic," You tell him. You don't know what else to say.

And then you feel an arm fall around your shoulders. Shiro's sitting down next to you on wilted flowers, pulling you to him. You lean into his arms.

"Remember what you told me?" He asks, "When they took my arm?" You nod.

"You're still you," His voice is compassionate, "You're still good. Whatever they did to you...it doesn't change that." You bite your lip, trying to hold back tears, but they come anyway. Shiro rubs your back while you cry, whispering, "It's okay, Lyda, it's okay."

But it's not okay. If he knew the whole story, he wouldn't be sitting here, telling you it's okay. He would say that you're a monster. He would run away. He would leave, and he would be right to leave. It stings as he whispers, "Lyda," because you know that's who you are now. Shiro can still be Shiro, even with his arm, but you will never be able to go back to who you were before the Galra took you. Until you die, you will be Lyda.

***

As you walk back up to the building with the party, you whisper, "Don't tell the others. Please." Shiro nods, then pushes open the door.

It almost feels like something is physically hitting you, like a wall of sound slams into you as you move back into the party. Earlier, it was fun, but now...you're exhausted. You just want to go back to the ship. And you can tell Shiro is remembering to be angry, now that you've calmed down.

You spot the other paladins sitting on some couches, interspersed with a few of the aliens from earlier. As you walk towards them, Hunk stands up and grins, exclaiming, "Lyda's back!" You smile shakily at him.

"Lyda, I have your helmet!" He says, handing it to you.

"Thanks, Hunk." You mumble, embarrassed that you left it here in your haste to get away. He can't hear you over the music, but he just keeps smiling and sits down.

"You brought Shiro!" Lance yells, turning away from the four-armed alien he was just talking with. He, too, has a goofy grin on his face. You wonder how much more they've had to drink.

"No," Shiro yells to be heard over the music, but still manages to sound stern, "I came to find you. We're leaving. Now."

"Aw, come on!" Lance whines, "This is awesome! Here, try this!" He offers his cup to Shiro, which is once again full of the clear drink.

"What--have you been drinking?" Shiro shouts, grabbing the cup from Lance. He takes two steps to the side, throwing the liquid down a trash chute on an adjacent wall.

"Hey!" Lance complains, but Shiro silences him with a glare.

"All of you. Up. Now. We're leaving." This time, nobody argues with him.


	20. Chapter 20

"What were you THINKING?" Allura thunders. She's furious, pacing back and forth in front of you, Hunk, Keith, Lance, and Pidge. Shiro and Coran are standing to the side, both looking grim. Angry Allura is kind of terrifying.

"Do you have any idea how irresponsible--how dangerous--how stupid your little excursion was? You are paladins of Voltron. You endangered the lives of everyone on this ship--no, the lives of everyone in this universe--just so you could go to party?" She throws her hands up in disgust.

"It wasn't dangerous..." Lance mumbles defensively, "We were careful..."

"Not dangerous?" Allura shouts, voice jumping up an octave, "Not dangerous? You have no idea what spies Zarkon could have on this planet! And not only were you fraternizing with complete strangers, you were drinking! As if going to the party alone wasn't stupid enough--drinking!"

You want to melt into the ground. You know Allura is right--and everything she's saying is just making you feel more and more guilty. You're an adult; you should have known better. You did know better. But you went because you were selfish, and irresponsible, and wanted to have fun.

Glancing at the four teenagers next to you, you can see that you're not the only one feeling guilty. Hunk is sniffling like he's trying to hold back tears, Keith's face is bright red with embarrassment as he stares at his feet, and Lance is chewing on his lip and glancing around the room, unable to make eye contact. Only Pidge seems to be remaining calm.

"Do you have any idea how afraid I was when Shiro woke me up to tell me that you were all missing? We had no way of knowing what had happened to you! No note, no holo-message, nothing! I just don't understand how--"

"We get it!" Pidge bursts out, interrupting Allura's rant. The room falls silent, and everyone turns to look at the green paladin. She shuffles her feet, self-conscious now that she has everyone's attention, and continues at a more reasonable volume, "Just stop, okay? We know it was stupid. We won't do it again."

"No, I don't think you do get it." Allura says, still outraged. She crosses her arms, "This isn't a game. We're not flying around space for fun. The entire universe is counting on you--"

"Well, we didn't sign up to save the universe!" Pidge interrupts again, shouting, "Okay? I do get it, we all get it, we know that it's up to us to stop Zarkon and protect the galaxy and all that shit. But we didn't ask for that, okay? I just wanted to save my family, but I'm here, playing soldier, literally a piece of your machine. God, Allura, we're still high-schoolers! We're not supposed to be responsible for millions of lives, we're supposed to be going to school and to parties and home to our families every night, instead of god-knows-where in outer space, risking our lives every other day and not sure if we'll ever see earth again!"

Pidge finishes her rant, and the room falls silent once more. Allura looks shocked. "I..." she begins to speak, but doesn't seem to know what to say.

Finally, the princess sighs and murmurs, "I'm sorry, Pidge. You're right that this is an enormous burden, and I'm sorry that you're the ones who have to shoulder it. But...but this is to protect earth, to protect your families. And you can't just jeopardize that on a whim."

"I'm not stupid." Pidge mutters, "I know why we're doing this. I'm here, aren't I? All I'm saying is that maybe, if you didn't keep us on such a short leash, we wouldn't have had to sneak out. We train every day that we're not fighting some monster; if you'd let us have some freedom to explore or have fun--if you'd let me have time to focus on finding my family--then we wouldn't do stuff like this behind your back."

"We don't have time..." Allura begins to speak, exasperated, but Shiro takes a step forward.

"Pidge is right," he says, soothingly, "You're just kids. Everyone needs some more downtime; we're all stressed. But Allura's right, too. Stopping Zarkon is our top priority. We need to be careful, and we can't keep secrets. I'll stop pushing everyone to train so hard, and I'm sure Allura will, too," he casts a meaningful glance at the Altean princess, who looks like she wants to protest, "But in the future, I want you guys to know that you can come to us. You can tell me if there's something you want to do, or somewhere you want to go. Okay?"

After a beat, the younger paladins all nod. You watch, mesmerized by the exchange. This has been building for a while now; you've seen firsthand the incredible toll their work has taken on the paladins. It's good that they're finally discussing things--although you do wish this conversation had come about in a different way.

Once everyone has agreed--non verbally, at least--Shiro smiles. "All right," he says, "It's late. We should all go to sleep. Tomorrow we can finish getting parts and fixing the ship." After he finishes speaking, everyone begins to filter out of the room, trudging to their dormitories.

You and Shiro are the last to leave. On your way out, he catches your eye, asking softly, "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," you smile shakily, "I don't think that I'll....feel sick again anytime soon." Shiro nods.

"You can talk to me anytime, Lyda." He tells you, meeting your eyes. His gaze is warm, concerned, open...you swallow hard.

"I know." Your voice is barely a whisper, and you do your best to dredge up a ghost of a smile as you reach your room, "Good night, Shiro."

He bids you good night, but as you climb into bed, you can't stop thinking about him. The way Shiro treated you tonight, even after finding out about the flip side of your healing, and the way he treated the younger paladins...how he was stern, but soothing; concerned, but calm. How his eyes were so soft and kind and his voice was so gentle. Even after his time as a Galran prisoner, even after Haggar's experiments, this man is still so good. So human.

You turn onto your side and feel a tear slip down your cheek. Everything about Shiro--all the time you've spent with him and around him on this ship--has made you want to be closer. You never get tired of talking to him, of seeing him smile, of just being in the same room, together. You thought that being free would make you need him less, but it seems to have had the opposite effect. And that terrifies you. Because you know that you can't get close to Shiro. You know that you aren't like him--you didn't come away from your time as a prisoner good and safe and whole. Tonight only proved that. You're dangerous, toxic. Corrupted. You couldn't even bring yourself to tell Shiro the full story, and you know that if you did, he'd probably want you off this ship.

So you won't let yourself get close. You'll keep your distance, stay away, make sure he's able to pick up the pieces of the life the Galra shattered without you there to poison it. Sure, you'll still be friends--you'll treat him just like you treat everyone else on the ship. But those deeper feelings, those emotions that you can feel bubbling just under your skin--those, you'll lock away. You'll keep them shut safely in the recesses of your heart, where you'll be able to pretend they don't exist. Because, really, you're just exaggerating. You have a strong bond with Shiro because the two of you went through so much trauma together, but it's not like you're in love with him.

 

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok guyz i finished copying and pasting the chapters i have written so far over from wattpad so now i should be updating on this site each time i post a new chapter on wattpad, instead of randomly posting ten chapters at once. we'll see, tho. this is harder 2 use for me lmao
> 
> anyway thanks again 4 consuming my Garbage if ur reading this trash fic


	21. XXI.

You wake up feeling groggy and disoriented. As you sit up, you wince; your head is throbbing with a mild headache. Groaning, you stand up to stretch--and then immediately slap a hand over your mouth as your stomach churns. For a second, you think you might throw up, but it passes quickly. You're left feeling slightly nauseous as you begin your morning routine and get dressed.

You rub your temples as you exit your room, wondering why you're feeling so lousy--and then you remember. The drinking. But you only had a few sips...was the alcohol really that strong? Do aliens even have alcohol? You sigh, supposing that you brought this on yourself, either way. 

When you get to the dining hall, you're surprised to find it empty. You usually wake up around the time that everyone's eating breakfast...but maybe you slept in today. You switch gears and make your way to the training deck to see if there's anyone there. As you get closer to the room, you can hear the clang of metal hitting metal and someone grunting with exertion; it certainly sounds like the paladins are in here. When the doors slide open for you, however, there's only one person in the room. 

Shiro is sparring with the training bot. His skin glows with a light sheen of sweat, and his Galran arm shines with faint purple light as he uses it to block blows from the robot's sword. He maneuvers gracefully, lithe and powerful, ducking and dodging and skipping around his metallic opponent. With each shift, you can see his muscles pulling taut beneath his space suit. For some reason, you find your heartbeat speeding up and a hot flush spreading across your face. You freeze, staring as he administers a final powerful blow to the robot, who shuts off automatically. 

When Shiro turns and sees you, a surprised look crosses his face. "Lyda," He smiles, breathing heavily from his workout, "I'm sorry, I didn't notice you." He runs a hand through his hair, letting his Galran arm drop to his side. 

"It's fine!" You squeak, "I just walked in! Didn't mean to interrupt..." Your heartbeat only speeds up as he walks closer to you, and you can't help wondering what's wrong with you. 

"No, no, you're fine." Shiro says, "I was just getting some training in. Did you need something?"

"Oh, uh, I was just looking for everyone. I went to the dining hall and no one was around...did I sleep late?"

"Um..." Shiro smiles, amused, and rubs the back of his neck, "No...how are you feeling?"

"What?" You blink, "I'm fine, but if I didn't sleep late then where..." your sentence is interrupted by a sudden stabbing in your temples, and you wince.

"Fine, huh?" Shiro asks wryly, and you realize what he's getting at.

"Oh..." You breathe, "They all drank so much more than me...are they alright?"

Shiro chuckles, "They'll be okay. I think they're all in their rooms. Do you need me to get you some food?" He takes a step towards you.

"No, no, I'm fine!" You laugh nervously, taking a step back as you blush once again. What's going on with you today? Must be the hangover..."I don't want to interrupt your training. I can get food myself and go check on the others."

Shiro shrugs. "Okay. Coran and Allura are in town getting the rest of the parts. I'll be here if you need anything." He turns and walks back towards the immobile training bot. As you start to leave, however, he calls after you.

"Oh, and I almost forgot: orders from Allura! She says not to heal anyone's hangovers, or else."

"Or else what?" You ask, thinking about how furious the princess was last night.

Shiro shrugs. "She didn't say, but I wouldn't cross her right now if I was you. Besides, it'll be good for everyone to learn a lesson about moderation when it comes to drinking." You nod, offering a small smile as he turns back around.

Once you've left the room and the doors are shut behind you, you lean against a wall and take a deep breath. What was that?  You ask yourself. You think back to seeing Shiro training, and your entire body feels hot. Okay, you assure yourself, This is normal. I'm a grown woman. Shiro's a grown man. A very attractive grown man. It's just a natural response. It doesn't mean anything. In fact, it's probably just the hangover. You bite your lip. Yeah...just the hangover.

Partly because you're worried and partly to distract yourself, you go back towards the hallway where everyone's rooms are located. The first door in the hallway is Hunk's, so you peer inside to see if he's doing alright. Loud snores greet you, and all you can see is a mountain of blankets piled on his bed. He seems peaceful enough, so you let him sleep and move on. 

Pidge's room is a different story. Her blankets are snarled on the floor next to the trash chute, where she's curled up. Her face is almost as green as her lion, and her glasses are askew. When she sees you, she staggers to her feet. 

"Lyda!" She says desperately, "Thank god--" her voice cuts off abruptly as she wheels around to the trash chute. You wince at the sound of her throwing up and look away.

She sits back down on the blankets and turns back to you, thinking better of her attempts to move. "Thank god you're here," Pidge groans, "I feel awful." She doesn't ask you to heal her, but you know that's what she's getting at. 

"I'm sorry, Pidge," you say with a sympathetic--and slightly guilty--smile, "I've been ordered not to heal anyone today."

She groans even more loudly. "By who? Shiro? Allura? It was Allura, wasn't it?" She sighs.

"I can...bring you some water?" You say, hesitantly, looking for a way to help. You don't know if there's any medicine on this ship--everyone just uses the healing pods when they're injured, and no one has ever gotten sick as far as you know. Coran insists this is because of the nutrition packed into his beloved space goo. 

"Water would be great." Pidge tells you, leaning her head against the trash chute. You nod. 

"I'll be back soon." 

You hurry to the ship's kitchen and grab four glasses, figuring you should probably bring water to all the paladins. On your way back to Pidge, you stop by Hunk's room and leave his drink next to his bed. Once you get back to the green paladin, there's not much you can do; she's occupied once more with the trash chute. You gently place her glass of water next to her blanket pile and slip out.

When you get to Keith's room you move to open the door, but then pause. Voices can be heard bickering inside.

"Move over! You're taking up all the space!"

"Don't yell, I have a head--hey! What the hell?"

"You took all the blanket!"

"No I didn't! And now I'm cold!"

"Go back to your own room!"

"I'm SICK!"

You push the door open hesitantly, calling out, "Guys?" The argument stops instantly.

As you enter the room, you're greeted by the sight of Keith and Lance both squashed onto Keith's bed, each grabbing onto half of the blanket like you caught them in a game of tug-of-war. Keith immediately drops the blanket and lurches off the bed, saying, "This isn't what it--" Before he can finish, he slaps a hand over his mouth the same way Pidge did and rushes to the trash chute. 

"Can you PLEASE be QUIET?" Lance groans from the bed, grabbing the pillow and covering his face, "My head is killing me!"

"I just threw up, asshole!" Keith attempts to yell from across the room, still gagging a bit.

"Um..." You mumble, and their attention snaps back to you.

"This isn't what it looks like," Keith says quickly, "I didn't even know he was in here til I woke up this morning." He glares at Lance.

"I went into the wrong room and passed out!" Lance grumbles defensively, "And then I woke up with a gigantic headache and this idiot stealing all the blankets."

"Uh...okay, guys, it's fine, really. I don't care." You assure them, "I just came to check on you."

"Can you heal hangovers?" Lance moans, burying his face in Keith's pillow.

"Allura ordered me not to. Sorry, guys." You say apologetically. The paladins groan simultaneously. 

"I can bring you guys water or food or...more blankets, if you want. Just let me know what you need." You offer.

"Water," Keith says immediately. Lance wails for more blankets and pillows from the bed. You nod and hurry off, smiling to yourself as the door shuts behind you and their bickering resumes. This was exactly what you needed to get your mind off Shiro. 

***

You spend most of the day relaxing, when you aren't running back and forth taking care of the hungover paladins. Hunk sleeps into the afternoon, but when he wakes up he practically starts crying because he's so hungry. Coran and Allura return with parts and begin working on repairs, so you find yourself responsible for getting food for everyone. 

By the time repairs are finished it's getting late, and all of the younger paladins have gone back to sleep after a day of puking, eating, and whining. Shiro is with you, Allura, and Coran in the main control room, where the two Alteans are explaining the next steps they plan to take. 

"We've picked up on a heavy concentration of Galran tech signals from this solar system," Coran explains, using the enormous holo-map to zoom in on a cluster of planets. "However, the vast majority of the signals haven't been from weaponry or army bases. We think Zarkon has centered many of his work camps in this area; it's a solar system especially rich in natural resources and quintessence.

Because it is our duty to rescue those oppressed by Zarkon, Allura and I are considering planning a mission to the work camps in that area. Defenses are low, as far as we can tell, and dismantling the Galran presence there may even hurt the supply flow of necessary goods to Zarkon's main ship. However, we would have to plan carefully; we don't want to alert Zarkon to our presence before we've completed our mission. We'll have to be quick and quiet. And before we make any decisions, we'll need to get closer and gather more intelligence."

Shiro nods as Coran finishes speaking. "We can prep the other paladins tomorrow," he tells Allura, "They should be fine by then. Although I'm really not sure what they were drinking...When do you think we'll move forward with this mission?"

"Well, it won't take long to get there," Allura answers, thinking, "Especially if we use a wormhole. But we'll probably need to spend a few days gathering information. The signals we're picking up on seem secure, but we can't be certain. Luckily, there's a planet near that solar system with a breathable atmosphere where we can land; it's outside Zarkon's radar because they've already drained it of most quintessence. It has no more use for the Galra empire."

"What planet is that?" Shiro asks, and Allura pauses, glancing at you guiltily.

"Ellythria."


	22. XXII.

Coran lands the ship in what used to be the Ellythrian Gardens; a massive conglomeration of carefully cultivated flora and fauna that was meticulously preserved and cared for by volunteers and city workers. Now, the stalks, the stems, the leaves, the petals, the trunks, the vines, the berries, the buds--all is withered, cracked, dry, dead. You have to wear a helmet with your space suit because even the air is poison, now, filled with the remains of decay and disease. You step out of the ship and for a second you think Coran has landed on the wrong planet. 

You expected an unbearable wave of emotion, a tsunami of grief and despair and hatred at seeing the destruction of your home. All the Galrans left is a husk; your once bright and beautiful planet is devoid of color, of life, and of happiness. The earth is parched and dry and eerily empty. There was once an entire population, and now there are only shells of houses and stores. You stare at the empty streets as Coran and Pidge work to set up the necessary machinery for tapping into Galran communication signals and Allura and Shiro strategize for how best to infiltrate and attack the nearby work camps. You pace. You focus on the storefront that your best friend's father owned, picturing the bright green windowsills and bright pink holo-screens that advertised handmade traditional Ellythrian robes. You don't even remember your friend's name anymore. You remember, vaguely, her smile, the way she would laugh when her father pretended to be mad that she tracked mud in the store, her pale blonde hair. But even this piece of your life that was once crucial now feels like a dream. Your memories are as good as the earth you stand on, drained of quintessence--parched, thirsty, only suggesting that something alive once existed here. 

You aren't overcome by crashing waves of emotion. Instead, you are struck with the feeling of floating in a deep sea. You have been treading water for so long. You have tried so hard not to drown as floodwater rose around you. You have been so focused on keeping your head above the waves as your past was slowly submerged that the memory dry land once existed does not feel real. You cannot mourn for your home, because this is not your home. You do not know how to mourn for something that no longer exists. You do not know how to mourn for a memory. 

No one notices you walk away from the ship. You start down the street, passing the crumbling storefront. Chips of green paint lie around the windowsills. You know there's nothing left for you here, but you still feel compelled to make the familiar journey from the Gardens that you always used to make. Down the main road, turn left, left again, then right. Your home was a mile outside of town, in the midst of the tall, thin reeds known as Shuma grass that grew in plains on rich Ellythrian soil. The reeds no longer grow, but their withered stalks point you in the right direction as if to acknowledge that you are the last person left who knows their names, who knows how they swayed in summer breezes, who knows the way you could crack open the dying reeds and suck out the Shuma nectar as if the plant was a straw. You stop when you reach the edge of the small stone path that was once familiar. Now, the stones are cracked and discolored, but you can still remember your father's rough hands wrapping around your tiny child's fingers as you helped him pave the road. 

This is where you stopped the night the Galrans came. It was the night of a meteor shower; you were lying in the Shuma grass three miles outside of town when you saw something was decidedly not a meteor approaching Ellythria. You sprinted two miles to your house. You stopped at this stone--this one, with the tiny chip on the left corner. You remember it because you kneeled over, panting, and found yourself staring at the tiny imperfection until you could breathe again. You stopped because you had seen the smoke rising from the town, had heard the shouting as you got closer--the screaming, the shooting--and all you could think was, "Mother. Papa." 

What are you doing here? You don't want to remember this. You don't want

There wasn't smoke coming from the house, but there were voices. Your father's, deep and melodic, shouting loud and desperate, "Althea, run! Althea--"

No no no no no no

Your mother's voice, ragged and broken and hard as steel, "I'm not leaving you!"

no no no no no no

Another voice, like the ice in a winter breeze and the blade of a singing knife, 

no no no no no no no

"Are the rumors true, I wonder? Star-woman, aren't you?"

nonononononononono

And then there wasn't smoke but there was screaming and you were running down uneven stones laid with shaky child's hands crying, "Papa! Papa!" and you could hear your mother's voice screaming, 

Stop

No

Please

your heart beat your rib cage like a mallet, blood pumping to the rhythm of

Stop

No

Please

the air tasted like smoke and desperation set your chest on fire and when you ran through the door your mother screamed at you to run but Papa was bleeding you could feel the pain you could take the pain you could fix this you could fix this you could fix this

Stop

No 

Please

"And what do we have here? A star-girl?"

You don't want to be remembering this, but treading water is so exhausted. You walk down the stones, numb, following the path you took that night. The door has been torn away from your home, but you walk through the empty space as if you're walking back in time. 

Haggar evaluated you with curiosity like curiosity of a child about to tear the legs off a squirming beetle as you frantically healed your father. Your mother watched from where Galran soldiers held her, unable to move, unaware of the tears streaming down her face. 

"Impressive, child," the smile Haggar offered was hungry; all sharp teeth and insatiable appetite, "But I'm afraid you've wasted your talents. We have no need for a human."

"No," you clutched your father closer to you as Haggar signaled one of the soldiers , "No, please." Your voice was trembling, weak, begging--you were a child, confronted so suddenly with evil that you didn't know what to do except collapse. Surely, surely, any creature could feel pity. 

"No!" You screamed and clawed at the soldier that pulled you away, trying to rip you from the arms your father circled around you, "Stop! Please! Why are you doing this?" Your mother had fallen silent, staring past the guards restraining her and into your father's eyes. He stared back, making no attempt to hide his terror or to stop the tears that fell from his eyes, mirroring your mother's. The look they exchanged was one that you couldn't understand at the time; one that you still cannot understand.

As the guard raised his ray-gun, your father looked away from your mother for a moment to hold your gaze. "I love you," 

You watched him die with your name on his lips. 

You don't realize that you're kneeling on the floor until Lance's voice interrupts your thoughts.

"Lyda?"

Suddenly, your head is above water again. You stand.

Hunk and Lance are standing in the doorway that you passed through all those years ago. They stare at you with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

"Allura sent us to look for you," Lance says, once you're standing. 

"Are you okay?" Hunk asks. You blink.

"Yeah. I just need to do something." 

You brush past the two of them, walking back to the beginning of the path. You reach down for the stone with the chip, tugging it out of the earth. The dry ground does not give easily under your hands; your nails break as you dig into the unforgiving soil and pull the stone from its resting place. You carry it back to the house and set it down. Then you go back.

Hunk and Lance watch silently as you make trip after trip, uprooting every stone that you once laid to pave the path to your home. You pile each rock on top of the other inside the broken walls of the house, in the place where your father's blood permeates the air as thick as the poison spread by the Galrans. When the last stone has been laid, you stand back. What was once a path is now a grave so full that the whole universe should not be able to contain it. You can feel the pulse of all the things you've buried like a faltering heartbeat. 

As the three of you walk away from the dilapidated building, Hunk asks,

"Is that your home?" 

You pause for a moment, and turn back to look at the structure one last time.

"No." You tell him. 

You move on.


End file.
